

'L \ 



<5\ 




> A 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

i^Qp. __ ixi|iijng]^ Ifu. 

.ShcM. P/ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




ESURGIT 



A COLLECTION OF 



fiumns anti Songs of t\)e Hcsurrrctton. 



EDITED, WITH NOTES, 

Bv FRANK FOXCROFT. 



iriTH AN INTRODUCTION 

By ANDREW PRESTON PEABODY, D.D. 



\\ ->. 187^. 

Boston : . - ^- 
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 
Xcb ^ork: 

CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 

1S79. 

. 2t 




f^ 



Copyright, 1879, 

By frank FOXCROFT. 

AU rights reserved. 



Eafalc of Contents. 



Prefatory Note 
Index of First Lines . 
Index of Latin Hymns. 
Index of Authors . 
Index of Translators . 
Introduction by Andrew P 
Hymns from the Greek 
Hymns from hie Latin 
Hymns from ihe Russiax 
Hymns from the Danish 
Hymns from the German 
Hymns from the Swedish 
English Hymns 
American Hymns . 
Bibliography . 







V 

ix 


. 




XV 






xvii 






xxi 


. Peabod^ 


', D.D. 


xxiii 

I 

25 

97 

lOI 

109 

159 
167 

347 



^Prefatorg Note* 



HE present volume explains, and, it may 
be hoped, justifies itself. It is the result 
of a more careful search than has been 
hitherto made in the rich field of resurrection- 
poetry. It finds its purpose in a desire to con- 
tribute to the observance of a day, the hopes and 
associations of which are precious to all branches 
of the Christian Church ; and, besides this, to pre- 
sent a collection of verse sufficiently varied and 
suggestive to be welcome not only at Easter-time, 
but throughout the year. For the Christian Sabbath 
is itself a weekly commemoration of the rising of 
Christ, and we do not wisely if we keep the Easter- 
feast but once a year. 

The scope of the volume might have been greatly 
enlarged by including poems relating to the ascen- 
sion and exaltation of Christ, or to the general res- 
urrection, and the joys of heaven. Poems of both 
these classes are often included among Easter- 



VI PREFATORY NOTE, 

pieces. But, if these had been taken, the collec- 
tion would have lost its distinctive character. With 
a very few exceptions, the poems which it contains 
relate directly to the rising of Christ, and to the 
Christian hope of resurrection as based thereon. 
Within these seemingly narrow limits the reader 
will find a wide variety of form and thought and 
feeling. It will be noticed that comparatively few 
of the pieces are among those in common use for 
public worship. No part of the editor's search has 
been so disappointing as that which led him among 
the hymn-books. It is well known that what may 
be called the singing qualities of a hymn are often 
in inverse ratio to the poetic. There are very 
many hymns, which, when removed from their set- 
ting, and analyzed as poems, are found to be com- 
monplace, and barren of beauty. No piece, how- 
ever, has been discarded from the collection simply 
because it was familiar, nor included simply be- 
cause it was little known. Religious feeling and 
poetic beauty constitute the standard which the 
editor has sought to apply. 

It is not claimed that the collection is complete, 
but that it is comprehensive and fairly representa- 
tive. It contains one hundred and seventy-seven 
pieces, extending over fifteen centuries of sacred 
song, and representing the poets of eight distinct 
nationalities. It is hoped that the attempt made at 
classification and chronological arrangement will 
assist the reader in the ready use of the volume. 



PREFATORY NOTE. Vll 

The notes prefixed to the hymns have been pre- 
pared with care fi"om the best accessible sources. 
They are given in the behef that the interest of a 
hymn is enhanced by a knowledge of the circum- 
stances in which it was written, or of the author. If 
inaccuracies exist, the editor will be glad to be 
informed of them, in order that they may be cor- 
rected in later editions. 

The editor is indebted to Mr. Whittier, Bishop 
Coxe, Dr. Peabody, Mr. A. D. F. Randolph, Mr. 
C. B. Tillinghast, and Mr. A. P. Hitchcock, for 
encouragement or advice ; and to A. D. F. Ran- 
dolph & Co., Dr. Schaff, Houghton, Osgood & Co., 
Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney, Miss Emily Seaver, Miss 
Harriet McEwen Kimball, and Miss Emily P, 
Mann, for permission to use copyrighted poems. 



Intiex of jFtrst ILincs* 



Again the Lord of life and light . 
Alas, poore death ! where is thy glorie ? 
Alleluia ! Alleluia ! . . . . 
Alleluia! Alleluia ! . . . . 
All hail ! dear Conqueror ! all hail ! 
All is o'er, — the pain, the sorrow 
All praise to Him of Nazareth 
Angels, roll the rock away . 
Angels, to our jubilee .... 
A pathway opens from the tomb . 

Arise 

Arise, my soul ! awake from sleep 

As spring's sweet breath after long wintry snow 

As those who seek the break of day 

Awake, glad soul ! awake ! awake ! 

Awake, thou wintry earth . . 



Behold the day the Lord hath made 
Blest morning, whose young dawning rays 
Breezes of spring, all earth to life awaking 



Calm they sit with closed door 
Christ has arisen . 
Christ hath arisen 



PAGE 
211 

1 86 
66 

293 
263 
236 
316 
210 

94 
306 
247 
103 
291 

18 
261 
301 

54 
201 

345 

300 

332 
141 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



Christ hath arisen ! O mountain peaks ! attest ! 

Christ is become our Paschal Lamb 

Christ is risen ! Allehiia ! 

Christ is risen, the Lord is come . 

Christ the Lord is risen again 

Christ the Lord is risen to-day 

Christ the Lord is risen to-day 

Christ, upon the Friday slain 

Christ, we sing Thy saving passion 

Christ with mighty triumph rises . 

Come, and let us drink of that new river 

Come, ye faithful, raise the strain . 

Come, ye saints, look here and wonder 

Dawn bursts o'er death's prison . 

Dawn of dawns, the Easter Day . 

Days grow longer, sunbeams stronger 

Dear Saviour of a dying world 

Death and darkness, get you packing ! 

Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing 

Done is a battle on the dragon black 

Do saints keep holy day in heavenly places ? 

Ere yet the dawn has filled the skies 
Eternal Father ! at whose word 

Fair spring, thou dearest season of the year 

Far be sorrow, tears, and sighing . 

For Easter Day, O lilies white ! . 

Forth to the Paschal Victim, Christians, brin 

From death, Christ, on the Sabbath morn 

Glory be to God on high 

Hail, day of days ! in peals of praise . 
Hail ! day of joyous rest 
Hail ! the holy day of days . 
Hail the much-remembered day 



PAGE 

233 

298 

259 

228 

118 

67 

204 

56 

17 

91 

4 

12 

218 

163 

339 
303 
285 
199 
187 
169 
326 

123 
324 

"5 

299 

338 

69 

105 

302 

36 

24s 

79 

52 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



XI 



Hallelujah ! Jesus lives ! . . . 

Hallowed forever be that twilight hour . 

He comes ! He comes ! the tomb . 

He is risen ! He is risen! 

Helped by the Almighty's arm, at last . 

Hence they have borne my Lord. Behold the stone 

He's gone ! see where His body lay 

How brightly glows the morning red ! . 

How shall we keep this holy day of gladness? 

\i the dark and awful tomb . 

I have no wit, no words, no tears . 

In the bonds of death He lay 

In the tomb, behold. He lies 

In Thy glorious resurrection 

Into the dim earth's lowest parts descending 

I say to all men far and near 

It is the noon of night .... 

Jesus Christ is risen to-day . 
Jesus hath vanished ; all in vain . 
Jesus ! in spices wrapped, and laid 
Jesus lives : no longer now . 
Jesus my Redeemer lives 
Jesu, the very thought of Thee 
Joy, O joy, ye broken-hearted ! 

Lamb, the once crucified 

Let faithfull soules this double feast attend 

Let us rise in early morning . 

Lift your glad voices in triumph on high 

Light's glittering morn bedecks the sky 

Lord, who createdst man in wealtli and store 

Lo ! the day the Lord hath made . 

Lo ! the gates of death are broken 

Mary to her Saviour's tomb . 
Morning breaks upon the tomb 



PAGE 

282 

275 

87 
182 
216 
143 
331 

15 

28 1 
120 
250 
251 

7 
145 
277 

96 

n 
264 

135 
127 

45 
64 

150 
175 

6 
314 

Zl, 
1S5 
224 

47 

207 
227 



Xll 



INDEX OF FIRST IINES. 



Morning of the Sabbath day . 

Most glorious Lord of lyfe that on this day 



Now Morning hfts her dewy veil . 
Now the world's fresh dawn of birth 
Now thy gentle Lamb, O Sion ! . 



O Christians, let us joyful be ! 

O darkest woe ! 

O day of days ! shall hearts set free 

O glorious Head, Thou livest now 

O mine eyes, be not so tearful 

Once more thou comest, O delicious spring 

On earth was darkness spread 

O risen Lord, O conquering King 

O Thou, the heavens' eternal King 

O Thou who once from death didst rise 

Our Paschal joy at last is here 



Pain and toil are over now . 

Praise to Christ with suppliant voices . 

Purge we out the ancient leaven . 

Put on thy beautiful robes. Bride of Christ 

Rejoice, dear Christendom, to-day 

Rise again, yes, rise again, wilt thou 

Rise, heart, thy Lord is risen : sing His praise 

Rise, heir of fresh eternity , 



Sabbath of the saints of old . 
Saints on earth, and saints in light 
Saviour of mankind, Man ! Emmanuel ! 
Say, Earth, why hast thou got thee new attir 
See the land, her Easter keeping . 
Sing aloud, children .... 
Sleep, sleep, old sun ; thou canst not have re- 
Smile praises, O sky ! . 
So holy is this day of days . 



past 



PAGE 
222 
171 

83 

49 
63 

106 
125 
230 
133 
334 
2>^7 
335 
131 

«5 
40 

161 

276 

42 

59 
296 

"3 

137 
183 
197 

266 

74 
172 

177 
274 
325 
174 
81 
114 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



Xlll 



So rest, my rest .... 

Spring is in its beauty glowing 

Springtide birds are singing, singing 

Stand on thy watch-tower, Habakkuk the seer 

Still thy sorrow, Magdalena ! 

Sun, shine forth in all thy splendor 

Tell us, Gard'ner, dost thou know 

Tlie calm of blessed night . 

The Church of God Hfts up her voice 

The foe behind, the deep before . 

The golden palace of my God 

The graves grow thicker, and life's ways more bare 

The happy morn is come 

The Lord is risen indeed 

The Lord of life is risen 

The morning purples all the sky . 

The orient beams of Easter morn 

There went three damsels at break of day 

The setting orb of night her level ray 

The supper of the Lamb to share 

The tomb is empty : wouldst thou have it full ? 

The winter is over and gone at last 

The world itself keeps Easter Day 

They bound him well in the dungeon cell 

They who with Mary came . 

This is the day the Lord hath made 

This is the very day of God . 

Thou hallowed chosen morn of praise 

Thou new Jerusalem, arise and shine ! 

Thou, that on the first of Easters . 

Thou whose sad heart and weeping head lyes low 

Thou, who to save 

'Tis He! 'tis He ! 1 know him now 

'Tis the day of resurrection . 

To Him who for our sins was slain 

'Twasnightl still night I 



PAGE 

129 
70 
19 

5 
61 

147 

320 
257 

16 
271 

99 
305 
208 
220 
154 

38 

S8 
III 
214 

29 
254 
323 
343 
28S 

14 

180 
27 



336 
200 
90 
318 
3 
249 
242 



XIV INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



Up, and away . . . . , i88 

Up ! sound your joyful songs victorious , . . . 156 

Weeper ! to thee how bright a morn was given . . -235 

We keep the festival .... .... 31 

Welcome, O day, in dazzling glory bright .... 313 

Welcome the triumphal token 51 

We were not with the faithful few 295 

What faithless, froward, sinful man 190 

What glorious light 196 

What said He, Mary, unto thee ? 268 

Who comes? my soul, no longer doubt . .... 213 

Who deems the Saviour dead ?...... 341 

Who from the fiery furnace saved the three .... 8 

Who is this that comes from Edom ? ..... 219 

Why, thou never-setting Light . . . , . .100 

Words may not thy glory tell 75 

Ye choirs of New Jerusalem 41 

Ye sons and daughters of the King ..... 72 

Yes, the Redeemer rose 202 



Entiex of Hatin f^umns. 



PAGE 

Ad coenam Agni providi 29 

Adeste, ccelitum chori 94 

Ad regias Agni dapes 31 

Ad templa nos rursiis vocat 83 

Alleluia ! Alleluia ! Finita jam sunt proelia .... 66 

A niorte qui Te suscitans 40 

Aurora ccelum purpurat 38 

Aurora lucis dum novae ....... 88 

Aurora lucis rutilat 33 

Cedant justi signa luctus 64 

Chorus Novae Jerusalem 41 

Coeli choris perennibus 74 

Ecce dies Celebris ! ........ 52 

Ecce tempus est vernale 70 

Erumpc tandem juste dolor 77 

Forti tegente brachia 87 

Haec est dies triumphalis 51 

Haec est sancta solemnitas solemnitatum .... 79 

Hie est dies verus Dei 27 

XV 



XVI INDEX OF LATIN HYMNS. 

PAGE 

Jesu, dulcis memoria 45 

Jesu, Redemptor saeculi 90 

Laudes Christo redempti voce . .... . .42 

Mitis Agnus, Leo fortis 63 

Mortis portis fractis, fortis 47 

Mimdi renovatio 49 

O filii et filise 72 

Plaudite coeli 81 

Pone luctum, Magdalena ! 61 

Rex sempiterne coelitum 85 

Salve, dies dierum gloria '54 

Salve, festa dies, toto venerabilis sevo 36 

Sexta passus feria 56 

Surgit Christus cum trophaeo 91 

Surrexit Christus hodie 96 

Te quanta Victor funeris 75 

Victimae Paschali laudes 67, 69 

Zyma vetus expurgetur 59 



Jntrex of ^utfjorsi» 



The names to which an asterisk is prefixed are those of authors con- 
cerning whom no biographical data have been obtained. 

Adam of St. Victor. . , . 49, 5', 52, 54, 56, 59 

Adams, Sarah Flower 247 

Alexander, Cecil Frances 275, 276 

Alford, Henry . . 257 

Allen, William 313 

Ambrose, St 27, 33 

Barbauld, Anna L/etitia 211 

Baynes, Robert Hall 291 

Beaumont, John 175 

Bernard of Clairvaux 45 

Bethune, George W 318 

* Blackburn, Thomas 301 

Bobroff, Semen Sergejewitsch .... 99, 100 

BoEHMER, Justus H. 131 

BONAR, HoRATIUS 254 

Bowles, William Lisle 213 

Brandenburg, Electress of 127 

Bryant, William Cullen 316 

Gary, Phcebe 334 

Collyer, William Bengo 227 

xvii 



XVlll INDEX OF AUTHORS. 

CoxE, A, Cleveland 320, 323 

Crashaw, Richard . 197 

Croswell, William 317 

Dix, William Chatterton 296 

Doddridge, Philip 202 

Donne, John 174 

Dunbar, William . . ■ 169 

Faber, Frederick W. ' 263, 264 

Fletcher, Giles 177 

Fortunatus, Venantius 36 

Frank, Solomon 129 

Franzen, F. Michael 163 

FULBERT of ChARTRES ........ 4I 

Garve, Christian 139 

Gellert, Christian F 135 

Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von 141 

Grahame, James 214 

Greenwell, Dora 268 

Grundtvig, Nicolai Frederik Severin . . . 105 

Hardenberg, Friedrich von 145 

Harvey, Christopher 188 

Haweis, Thomas 208 

Heerman, Johann . 123 

Hemans, Felicia 233, 235 

Herbert, George 183, 185, 186, 187 

Herrick, Robert 182 

Hill, Thomas 324 

Ingelow, Jean 277 

Janvier, Francis De Haes 341 

John of Damascus . . 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 14, 15 

Keble, John 230 

Kelly, Thomas ^ 216, 218, 219, 220 



INDEX OF AUTHORS. XIX 

Kimball, Harriet M 338, 339 

KiNGO, Thomas 103 

KiNGSLEY, Charles 274 

Klopstock, Friedrich G 137 

Lange, Johann Peter 154 

Littledale, Richard F 288 

Lowe, Martha P 329 

Luther, Martin 120 

Mant, Richard 224 

Milman, Henry H 228 

MoNSELL, John S. B 259, 261 

Montgomery, James . . . ' 222 

Moultrie, Gerard 282 

Moultrie, John 236 

Neale, John Mason 271 

Newman, John Henry 242 

Newton, John 207 

NovALis. — See Hardenberg. 

Peter the Venerable 47 

Petersen, Laurence 161 

QuEiNFURT, Conrad von 115 

* Ramus, 106 

RiST, Johann von 125 

RossETTi, Christina G 2S1 

Russell, Arthur T. 249, 250 

Sandys, George 172 

Schweizer, Meta Hausser 150 

Seaver, Emily 331 

Scott, Thomas 210 

Spenser, Edmund 171 

Spitta, C. J. P 147 



XX INDEX OF AUTHORS. 

Taylor, Jeremy 196 

Tersteegen, Gerhard 133 

Thompson, Alexander Ramsay ..... 325 

Trend, Henry 245 

TouRNEAux, Nicholas Le 94 

Vaughn, Henry 199, 200 

Ware, Henry, Jun 314 

Waring, Anna L^titia 285 

Washburn, E. A. . ' 332 

Watts, Isaac 201 

Wesley, Charles 204 

Whitney, A. D. T 326 

Whytehead, Thomas 266 

Wither, George iSo 

Wordsworth, Christopher 251 



Inticx of translators. 



Blew, William John 94 

BoRTinviCK, Jane . 139 

BowRiNG, John 99, 100 

Caswall, Edward 45) 69, 77, 85 

Chambers, John David 87, 88 

Chandler, John 83 

Charles, Elizabeth 27,29,47,81 

Cox, Frances Elizabeth 135 

Dix, William Chatterton . . .14, 15, 16, 17, 18 

Findlater, Mrs. Eric 139 

Harbaugh, Henry 154 

Hedge, Frederick H 141 

Hewett, John William 79> 9' 

Hitchcock, A. P 163 

Kynaston, Herbert 64 

Littledale, Richard Frederick . 42, 56, 143, 161 

Massie, Richard 147 

Neale, John Mason, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 33, 52, 59, 66, 72 

xxi 



XXll INDEX OF TRANSLATORS. 

Onslow, Phipps I9j 74 

Porter, Thomas C 150 

Smith, John George 40 

Tait, Gilbert 103, 105, 106 

Thompson, Alexander Ramsay . . . . 31, 38 
Thompson, Henry 156 

Trend, Henry . . . . . . . . 63, 70 

Washburn, E. A 61 

Weiss, Michael 118 

Williams, Isaac 90 

Winkworth, Catherine . in, 113, 114, 115, 118, 120, 

123, 125, 127, 131, 133, 137, 1^5 

Worsley, p. S 49, 5 1 



3introtiuction» 




:;«rsaN the early Church, the Resurrection of 
Christ was regarded as the most important 
fact in the record of His life, and still 
more as the foremost article of Christian belief, — 
as that without which it was impossible to place 
any confidence in the Saviour's teachings, or to 
ascribe any efficacy to His death. " If Christ be 
not risen," writes St. Paul, " cur preaching is vain, 
and your faith is also vain." This event has left a 
deeper impress on the world's history than any 
other on record. It does not depend for its evi- 
dence even on the Gospels. Were they lost or dis- 
credited, there yet occurred, beyond a doubt, in the 
century to which they relate, intellectual, moral, 
and social developments and changes, which can 
be accounted for only by the resurrection of Jesus 
from the dead. The sceptics of our own time ad- 
mit that the Apostles could not have held together 
or pursued their work of propagandism, and that 
Christianity could not have survived its Founder's 



XXIV INTRODUCTION. 

cross, had not His followers felt certain that their 
Master had risen, and that they had seen Him. It 
is conceded even by Renan, that the stories of the 
Evangelists are honest statements of what they 
thought had passed under the eyes of various groups 
of disciples, — at one time, of several hundred per- 
sons. But he does not explain how an optical illu- 
sion could have been kept up at intervals for forty 
days, before different groups, and in clear sunlight, 
in the open air, on the lake-shore and the moun- 
tain-side, no less than in the evening-gloom of the 
upper chamber. 

That the whole Church believed in the reahty of 
this life from the dead, we have abundant evidence. 
St. Paul's earliest Epistles were confessedly written 
but a few years after the crucifixion, and they con- 
stantly refer to the Resurrection as a fact undoubted 
in Christian circles. In the generation next suc- 
ceeding that of the Apostles, there grew up a con- 
troversy as to the proper time of keeping Easter ; 
and appeal was then made to primitive usage, as if 
the Resurrection had been celebrated from the 
very first. Indeed, we know it had from the be- 
ginning a weekly celebration : for there is not the 
slightest trace of any religious observance of the 
first day of the week before the time of Christ ; 
while we find that it was a day of Christian wor- 
ship within a few weeks after He had disappeared 
from the earth, and we have abundant proof that it 
was so hallowed as the day on which He rose. 



INTRODUCTION. XXV 

This event is properly called the resurrection, the 
rising again, — not the coming of the dead to life, 
but the re-appearance of Him who had lived on in 
death, and who returned to the dead body to show 
that it is the body alone that can die. Thus our 
Saviour in His owm person " abolished death," — 
blotted it out from among the possible experiences 
of any and every living soul. Those, then, who 
have gone from us, and have seemed to die, still 
live ; and for us death will be but a passage from 
hfe to life. 

All this might, indeed, have been proclaimed on 
Divine authority ; but mere words — even though 
words of God — would have failed fully to meet 
man's needs. No event takes so strong hold as 
death on the imagination and the emotional nature. 
The altered countenance, the wasted frame, the 
agony of parting, the grave with its mysterious 
horrors, cannot but recur to make the memory of 
the departed intensely painful, and to shroud in the 
densest gloom the prospect of our own dissolution. 
It is therefore a solace of indispensable need, and 
unspeakable worth and efificacy, that all the sad 
accessories of death in their most appalling forms 
were about our Lx)rd, and that they have all been 
transfigured by His rising, — symbols no longer of 
decay and corruption, but of emancipation into the 
higher and eternal life. 

The Resurrection is thus brought within the field 
of poetry. While it commends itself to faith by 



XXVI INTRODUCTION. 

an array of impregnable proof, it equally appeals 
to feeling and sentiment. The gorgeous beauty of 
an Oriental spring surrounding the Sepulchre with 
bloom and fragrance ; the roUing-away of the rock 
by unseen hands ; the white-robed angels where the 
dead had lain ; the procession of the sorrowing 
wonien ; the interview with Mary Magdalene ; the 
movements — so perfectly in character — of Peter 
and John ; the walk to Emmaus, and the supper 
there ; the leaping from mouth to mouth and from 
heart to heart of the glad tidings, " The Lord has 
risen indeed ! " — these, and not a few other features 
of the scene and incidents of the day, have in them 
elements of transcending beauty and grandeur, and 
furnish a mine of poetic fancy and imagery, which 
has been worked from the very birth-time of Chris- 
tian hymnology, and which will still open new and 
rich veins for sacred lyrics in all coming genera- 
tions. 

A volume of Easter-hymns might, at first thought, 
promise but little variety. The truth is far other- 
wise. As from a few lines and tints an endless 
number of patterns, all differing from one another, 
may be drawn for a carpet or a wall-paper, so may 
innumerable combinations and groupings be made 
from a few simple incidents, with the associations 
inseparable from them, and the thoughts that natu- 
rally flow from them. It is thus that no two hymns 
on the same subject are alike, and that no hymn 
that unites devotional and poetic merit can ever be 



INTRODUCTION. XXVU 

dispensed with because of its resemblance to an- 
other. This is especially true of the hymns and 
poems that commemorate the Resurrection. No 
theme of sacred song has a wider range. It con- 
nects itself with all our sorrows, our hopes, and our 
joys ; with all that sheds sun-rays of heaven upon 
our earthly life ; with the blessed memories of those 
who sleep in Jesus ; with the fellowship that unites 
the households which death has parted, and makes 
of the whole family of Christian believers " one 
church, above, beneath." 

Nor has there been any subject which has called 
forth so wide a diversity of inspiration. We have 
the rich mellifluous strains of the old Greek hymns, 
the terse, sonorous, majestic melodies of the Latin 
Church, the calm, meditative fervor of the German 
Muse, and, in our own tongue, the quaintness of 
our early poets, and, in later time, every mood of 
lyric rhythm, now slow and solemn, now soaring 
and jubilant as the song of the lark, and again in 
a tone of tender and subdued gladness, as of one 
whose inward vision turns from the grave of buried 
kindred to the place where the Lord lay. 

May this Easter offering lift many hearts in glad 
thanksgiving to Him who has conquered death, in 
whom the dead live, and in whom he that believeth 
shall never die ! 

ANDREW P. PEABODY. 



' Still on the lips of all we question 

The finger of God's silence lies: 
Shall the lost hands in ours be folded ? 
Will the shut eyelids ever rise ? 

O friends ! no proof beyond this yearning, 
This outreach of our souls, we need: 

God will not mock the hope He giveth ; 
No love He prompts shall vainly plead. 

Then let us stretch our hands in darkness, 
And call our loved ones o'er and o'er : 

Some time their arms shall close about us, 
And the old voices speak once more." 

J. G. Whittier. 



iTrom tl)e ®reck. 



Kesurgit. 



'Etg tfje ©as of Eesxirrectton* 

By St. John Damascene, who was unquestionably the greatest of 
the poets of the Eastern Church. The date of his birth is unknown; and 
of his death all that is certain is that it occurred after 754, and before 
787. He was born of a good family, made great progress in philosophy, 
was an eloquent adversary of the Iconoclasts, resided for a time at the 
monastery of St. Sabas in Palestine, and late in life was ordained priest 
of the Church of Jerusalem. The following is the first Ode of his great 
Easter Canon, which is to this day sung by the Greek Church, at the 
first hour of Easter morning, with every sort of jubilant accompaniment, 
— the flashing of light from thousands of tapers, the joyous strains of 
bands of music, the roll of drums, and thunder of cannon. The translation 
is by Rev. J. M. Neale, D.D., and is contained in his "Hymns of the 
Eastern Church." See biographical note prefixed to the piece, " The Foe 
behind, the Deep before." 

|IS the Day of Resurrection : 

Earth ! tell it out abroad ! 
The Passover of Gladness, 
The Passover of God. 
From Death to Life eternal, 

From this world to the sky, 
Our Christ hath brought us over, 
With hymns of victory. 

3 




LET US DRINK OF THA T NEW RIVER. 

Our hearts be pure from evil, 

That we may see aright 
The Lord in rays eternal 

Of Resurrection-Light ; 
And, listening to His accents. 

May hear, so calm and plain. 
His own All Hail ! — and, hearing. 

May raise the victor strain ! 

Now let the Heavens be joyful ! 

Let Earth her song begin ! 
Let the round world keep triumph, 

And all that is therein ; 
Invisible and visible, 

Their notes let all things blend ; 
For Christ the Lord hath risen, — 

Our joy that hath no end. 



Come, anti %ti us IBrtnJt of tjat Neb) 
Eiber* 

By St. John Damascene: the third Ode in his Easter Canon, 
Translated by Dr. Neale. 




OME, and let us drink of that New 
River, 
Not from barren rock divinely 
poured, 



STAND ON TIIY WATCH-TOWER. 5 

But the Fount of Life that is forever 
From the sepulchre of Christ the LorH. 

All the world hath bright illumination, — 
Heaven and Earth, and things beneath the 
earth :■ 
'Tis the festival of all Creation ; 

Christ hath risen, Who gave Creation 
birth. 

Yesterday with Thee in burial lying, 
Now to-day with Thee arisen, I rise : 

Yesterday the partner of Thy dying, 
With Thyself upraise me to the skies. 



.Stanti on tftu SEatc!]=Eotocr, 1l?atiafikufe 

By St. John Damascene: the fourth Ode in his Easter Canon. 
Translated by Dr. Neale. 

g]TAND on thy watch-tower, Habak- 
kuk the Seer, 
And show the Angel, radiant in his 
light : 
" To-day," saith he, " Salvation shall appear, 
Because the Lord hath risen as God of 
miefht." 




6 LET US RISE IN EARLY MORNING. 

The male that opes the Virgin's womb is He : 
The Lamb of Whom His faithful people eat ; 

Our truer Passover, from blemish free ; 

Our very God, Whose name is all complete. 

This yearling Lamb, oiu: Sacrifice most blest. 
Our glorious Crown, for all men freely dies : 

Behold our Pascha, beauteous from His rest, 
The healing Sun of Righteousness arise. 

Before the ark, a type to pass away, 

David of old time danced : we, holier race, 

Seeing the Antitype come forth to-day, 

Hail, with a shout, Christ's own almighty 
grace. 



%jX us 2^ise xxi lEarlg JHorntng* 

By St. John Damascene: the fifth Ode in his Easter Canon. 
Translated by Dr. Neale. 




ET us rise in early morning, 

And, instead of ointments, bring 
Hymns of praises to our Master, 
And His Resurrection sing : 
We shall see the Sun of Justice, 
Risen with healing on His wing. 



INTO THE DIM EARTH'S LOWEST PARTS, J 

Thy unbounded loving-kindness, 
They that groaned in Hades' chain, 

Prisoners, from afar beholding, 
Hastened to the light again ; 

And to that eternal Pascha 

Wove the dance, and raised the strain. 

Go ye forth. His Saints, to meet Him ! 

Go with lamps in every hand ! 
From the sepulchre He riseth : 

Ready for the Bridegroom stand : 
And the Pascha of Salvation 

Hail, with his triumphant band ! 



Into tjje I9tm Eartfj's iLotoest parts 
©escentiins. 

By St. John Damascene: the sixth Ode in his Easter Canon, 
Translated by Dr. Neale. 

|NTO the dim earth's lowest parts 
descending, 
And bursting by Thy might the 
infernal chain 
That bound the prisoners. Thou, at three 
days' ending, 
As Jonah from the whale, hast risen again. 




8 WHO FROM THE FIERY FURNACE 

Thou brakest not the seal, Thy surety's 
token, 
Arising from the tomb. Who left'st in birth 
The portals of virginity unbroken. 

Opening the gates of heaven to sons of 
earth. 

Thou, Sacrifice ineffable and living, 
Didst to the Father by Thyself atone 

As God eternal ; resurrection giving 

To Adam, general parent, by Thine own. 



SEIjo from tjje jFterg jFurnace ^abeti tfje 

By St. John Damascene: the seventh Ode of his Easter Canon. 
Translated by Dr. Neale. 

HO from the fiery furnace saved the 
Three, 
Suffers as mortal; that. His Passion 
o'er, 
This mortal, triumphing o'er death, might be 
Vested with immortality once more : 
He whom our fathers still confest 
God over all, forever blest. 




SAVED THE THREE. 9 

The women with their ointment seek the 
tomb ; 
And Whom they mourned as dead, with 
many a tear, 
They worship now, joy dawning on their 
gloom. 
As Living God, as mystic Passover ; 
Then to the Lord's disciples gave 
The tidings of the vanquished grave. 

We keep the festal of the death of death ; 
Of hell o'erthrown ; the first-fruits, pure 
and bright. 
Of life eternal ; and, with joyous breath. 
Praise Him that won the victory by His 
might : 
Him Whom our fathers still confest 
God over all, forever blest. 

All hallowed festival, in splendor born ! 

Night of salvation and of glory ! Night 
Fore-heralding the Resurrection morn ! 

When from the tomb the everlasting Light, 
A glorious frame once more His own, 
Upon the world in splendor shone. 



lO THOU HALLOWED CHOSEN MORN. 




^fjou flalloiweU Cjjosen Horn of Praise. 

By St. John Damascene: the eighth Ode of his Easter Canoi 
Translated by Dr. Neale. 

HOU hallowed chosen morn of praise. 
That best and greatest shinest ! 
Lady and Queen and Day of days, 
Of things divine, divinest ! 
On thee our praises Christ adore 
For ever and for evermore. 

Come, let us taste the Vine's new fruit, 

For heavenly joy preparing; 
To-day the branches with the Root 
In Resurrection sharing: 

Whom as True God our hymns adore, 
For ever and for evermore. 

Rise, Sion, rise, and, looking forth. 
Behold thy children round thee! 
From East and West, and South and North, 
Thy scattered sons have found thee ! 
And in thy bosom Christ adore 
For ever and for evermore. 



THOU NEW JERUSALEM, ARISE! 1 1 

O Father ! O co-equal Son ! 

O co-eternal Spirit ! 
In Persons Three, in Substance One, 
And One in power and merit : 
In Thee baptized, we Thee adore 
For ever and for evermore ! 




^fjou Ncbj :3erusalem, %xm antr Bs^xu I 

By St. John Damascene: the ninth Ode in his Easter Canon. 
Translated by Dr. Neale. There is another translation by William 
Chatterton Dix, beginning, " Shine, shine, O New Jerusalem! " 

HOU New Jerusalem, arise and shine! 
The glory of the Lord on thee hath 
risen. 
Sion, exult ! rejoice with joy divine ! 

Mother of God ! Thy Son hath burst his 
prison ! 

O heavenly Voice ! O word of purest love ! 

" Lo ! I am with you alway to the end ! " 
This is the anchor, steadfast from above, — 

The golden anchor, whence our hopes 
depend. 



12 COME, YE FAITHFUL, RAISE THE STRAIN: 

O Christ, our Pascha ! greatest, holiest, best ! 

God's Word and Wisdom and effectual 
Might ! 
Thy fuller, lovelier presence manifest. 

In that eternal realm that knows no nio^ht ! 




Come, ge jFaitjjful, liaise tfje .Strain, 

From St. John Damascene, by Dr. Neale. It is commonly 
classed among Easter hymns, although it belongs in his canon for St. 
Thomas's Sunday, or Low Sunday, as indicated by the allusion in the last 
stanza. 

jlOME, ye faithful, raise the strain 
Of triumphant gladness ! 
God hath brought His Israel 
Into joy from sadness ; 
Loosed from Pharaoh's bitter yoke 

Jacob's sons and daughters ; 

Led them with unmoistened foot 

Through the Red Sea waters. 

'Tis the spring of souls to-day ! 

Christ hath burst His prison ; 
And, from three days' sleep in death, 

As a sun hath risen. 



COME, YE FAITHFUL, RAISE THE STRAhY. I 3 

All the winter of our sins, 

Long and dark, is flying 
From His light, to Whom we give 

Laud and praise undying. 

Now the queen of seasons, bright 

With the day of splendor, 
With the royal Feast of feasts, 

Comes its joy to render; 
Comes to glad Jerusalem, 

Who with true affection 
Welcomes, in unwearied strains, 

Jesu's Resurrection. 

Neither might the gates of death. 

Nor the tomb's dark portal. 
Nor the watchers, nor the seal, 

Hold Thee as a mortal ; 
But to-day amidst the twelve 

Thou didst stand, bestowing 
That Thy peace, which evermore 

Passeth human knowing. . 



34 THEY WHO WITH MARY CAME. 



Cfjeg ixijjo iwitji Jlarg came* 



From the Greek of St. John Damascene, translated by William 
Chatterton Dix. See biographical note prefixed to the hymn, " Put 
on Thy Beautiful Robes, Bride of Christ." 



HEY who with Mary came, 
Before the dawn of day, 
Soon found that from the sepulchre 




The stone was rolled away. 

Then to those fearful souls 
The shining Angel said, — 

Him who in light eternal dwells, 
Why seek ye with the dead ? 

The grave-clothes see, and haste 

The joyful news to tell : 
The Lord is risen, and He hath been 

The death of death and hell. 

He is the Son of God, 

Who saves the human race : 

No more shall death destroy, no more 
The ancient foe have place. 



IF THE DARK AND A WFUL TOMB. 1 5 




\i tfjc ©arfe anti ^bjful Comti. 

This also is from the Greek of St. John Damascene, and the trans- 
lation by William C. Dix. 

F the dark and awful tomb 

Thou, immortal One, hast known, 
Rising, in Thy deathless bloom. 
Hades Thou hast overthrown. 

Yes ; as Victor Thou hast burst 
All the bands of hell, and said, 

Hail ! to those who sought Thee first, 
Bearing ointment for the dead ; 

Peace, Thy earliest, sweetest gift, 
Unto Thine Apostles given ; 

All the fallen Thou didst lift 

From the gates of hell to heaven. 



1 6 THE CHURCH OF GOD. 



Cfje Cfjurcf) of ffioti Hifts up f^er Foice. 

A Greek Paschal hymn, from the Offices of the Greek Church, trans- 
lated by William C. Dix. 




HE Church of God lifts np her voice ; 
To-day both heaven and earth re- 
joice : 

The gladsome Passover is here, — 
The Passover of Christ most dear. 

The Passover that frees from woe, 
That binds in chains the ancient foe, 
That opens wide the heavenly gate. 
The Lord's own day, we celebrate. 

From " very early " until night. 
One strain we lift, one shout of might : 
With Eucharist the morn arose, 
With Hallelujahs day shall close. 

O Christ, eternal Pascha, Thou, 
And Crown for every willing brow ! 
Thou spotless Lamb and Victor bright. 
Arrayed in more than morning light ! 



CHRIST, WE SING THY SAVING PASSION. 1 7 

On this Thy Resurrection-day 
Be strife and hate put far away, 
That those who in thy likeness hve 
May each his brother's wrongs forgive. 

The earth in festal raiment stands, 
The floods for gladness clap their hands : 
Then higher still, and higher raise 
The true, the living Pascha's praise. 



erijrist, iwe sins Eftg ^abtng passion* 

From the Offices of the Greelc Church, translated by William C. Dix. 




HRIST, we sing Thy saving passion; 
Thine arising glorify : 
Death forever to abolish, 

Thou upon the Cross didst die ; 
Then from Hades Thou didst hasten, 

As alone omnipotent : 
Grant us peace in life, Redeemer, 
Joy when earthly life is spent. 

Sing we now Thy condescension, 
Christ, with God the Father One ; 

We in lofty hymns will praise Thee, 
Mary-Mother's Blessed Son. 



1 8 THOSE WHO SEEK THE BREAK OF DAY. 

Thou for US as Man didst suffer, 
Willingly the Cross didst bear ; 

That Thy resurrection-glory, 

We, the sons of men, may share. 

Coming as from bridal chamber. 

Robed with orient morning-light ; 
Bringing to the world salvation. 

Spoiling hell of all her might ; 
Raising, by Thy resurrection, 

Man to dignity most high : 
Christ, may we with pure thanksgiving 

Thee forever glorify ! 



Translated from the Offices of the Greek Church, by William C. Dix. 

S those who seek the break of day 
Full early in the morning, 
The women came where Jesus lay, 
Who late had borne the scorning. 
Sweet ointment in their hands they brought. 

And, ere the sun had risen, 
The Sun of Righteousness they sought, 
Now set within death's prison. 




SPRINGTIDE BIRDS ARE SINGING. 1 9 

And thus they cried : "The Body here, 

Let us give new anointing ; 
The quickening flesh, the Body dear, 

Which, by Divine appointing, 
From this dark sepulchre shall rise, 

And Adam's race deliver. 
And lift the fallen to the skies. 

To reign in bliss forever." 

And, like the Magi, hasten we 

To Him with love adoring : 
Sweet spices, too, our gifts shall be. 

And we must weep, imploring 
That He, in swaddling clothes no more, 

But in fine linen lying, 
Would grant the fallen, when life is o'er, 

The gift of life undying. 

^prtngtitfe iStrtrs are ^incjincj, .Smcjinof. 

The following is contained in " Lyra Mystica," under the title " The 
Salutation of the Greek Church on Easter Day.*' The translation is by 
Rev. Phipps Onslow. See the biographical notice prefi.\ed to the hymn, 
" Saints on Earth, and Saints in Light." 



PRINGTIDE birds are singing, sing- 
in o" 
For the daybreak in the East : 
Silver bells are ringing, ringing. 
For the Church's glorious Feast. 




20 SPRINGTIDE BIRDS ARE SINGING. 

Christ is risen ! Christ is risen ! 

Sin's long triumph now is o'er. 
Christ is risen ! Death's dark prison 
Now can hold His Saints no more. 
Christ is risen ! risen, Brother ! 
Brother, Christ is risen indeed ! 

Holy women sought Him weeping, 

Weeping at the break of dawn, — 
Sought their Lord where He lay sleeping, 

In the love of hearts forlorn. 
Life for death on death's throne meeting, 

Joy for sorrow, faith for fear, 
For their tears the Angel's greeting, — 

Christ is risen ! He is not here. 

Christ is risen ! risen. Brother ! 
Brother, Christ is risen indeed ! 

Loved Apostles, scarce believing 

In His triumph o'er the grave, 
Hear the tale amid their grieving, 

Hasten eager to the Cave ; 
Find the folded grave-clothes lying. 

Death's unloosed and shattered chain, 
Find Him gone, death's power defying, 

From the Cavern sealed in vain. 

Christ is risen! risen, Brother! 
Brother, Christ is risen indeed ! 



SPRINGTIDE BIRDS ARE SINGING. 21 

Mary comes, a refuge seeking 

For her mourning and her shame : 
Lo ! a well-known voice is speaking ; 

Lo ! the Master calls her name. 
First, the life o'er sin victorious, 

She who v/ept for sin adored, 
For her tears the mission glorious 

To announce the Risen Lord. 

Christ is risen ! risen, Brother ! 
Brother, Christ is risen indeed ! 



For her tears, O glad reversing 

Of the Woman's work of old, 
Glorious tidings now rehearsing ; 

For the tale in Eden told. 
Woman's voice, that tale supplying, 

Brought in death by Satan's lie : 
Woman's voice is now replying, — 

Christ is risen ! we shall not die. 
Christ is risen ! risen, Brother ! 
Brother, Christ is risen indeed ! 



Where the noontide rays are falling 
On the rugged mountain-side, 

Brethren journey, sad recalling 
How He loved, and how He died. 



22 SPRINGTIDE BIRDS ARE SINGING. 

He is with them ! He is hearing 

How their trust and hope had fled, 
To their loving faith appearing 
In the blessing of the Bread. 

Christ is risen ! risen, Brother ! 
Brother, Christ is risen indeed ! 

Flashing back the sunset glory, 

Burns a casement high and dim : 
There the Ten, on all His Story 

Sadly dwelling, speak of Him. 
He is there ! the Light that never 

Into twilight fades away ; 
Day-star of the Dawn that ever 

Breaks into the perfect Day ! 

Christ is risen ! risen. Brother ! 
Brother, Christ is risen indeed ! 

Saints, your Cross in patience bearing, 

Mourners stained with many a tear, 
Penitents, in sorrow wearing 

Darkest weeds of shame and fear, — 
Christ is risen ! lose your sadness, 

Joying with the joyous throng: 
Faithful hearts will find their gladness. 

Joining in the Easter song, 

Christ is risen ! risen. Brother ! 
Brother, Christ is risen indeed ! 



SPRINGTIDE BIRDS ARE SINGING. 23 

Christ is risen ! Christ the Living, 

All His mourners' tears to stay ; 
Christ is risen ! Christ, forgiving. 

Wipes the stain of sin away. 
Christ is risen ! Christ is risen ! 

Sin's long triumph now is o'er ; 
Christ is risen ! Death's dark prison 

Holds His faithful never more. 

Christ is risen ! risen, Brother ! 
Brother, Christ is risen indeed ! 



iTrom tl)e Catin. 



THIS IS THE VERY DAY OF GOD. 2/ 



STijis is tfjt Ferg IBag of €^oti, 

{Hie est Dies verus Dei.) 

By St. Ambrose, bom probably at Treves, about 340, died in 397. 
His father was prefect of Gaul, and the son was intended for a secular 
career. He practised as an advocate at Milan, and was far advanced in 
civil preferment — having been appointed consular prefect of Liguria in 
370 — when he was suddenly chosen Bishop of Milan, in 374, by an im- 
pulsive and unanimous vote of the people, although he was then only a 
layman, and unbaptized. He was a man of dauntless courage, and his 
strong and austere hymns inspired the people to render him their support 
in his defence of the integrity of the Creed, and the spiritual authority of 
the Church. Many hymns have been ascribed to him on insufficient 
evidence: the authenticity of the following rests on the excellent authority 
of F. J. Mone. The translation is by Mrs. Elizabeth Charles. 

jHIS is the very day of God : 
Serene with holy light it came, — 
In which the stream of sacred blood 
Swept over the world's crime and shame. 

Lost souls with faith once more it filled, 
The darkness from blind eyes dissolved : 
Whose load of fear too great to yield, 
Seeing the dying thief absolved .-' 




28 THIS IS THE VERY DAY OF GOD. 

Changing the cross for the reward, 
That moment's faith obtains his Lord : 
Before the just his spirit flies; 
The first-fruits enters Paradise. 

The angels ponder, wondering ; 
They see the body's pain and strife, 
They see to Christ the guilty cling, 
And reap at once the blessed life. 

O admirable Mystery ! 

The sins of all are laid on Thee ; 

And Thou, to cleanse the world's deep stain. 

As man dost bear the sins of men. 

What can be ever more sublime .-' 
That grace might meet the guilt of time, 
Love doth the bonds of fear undo, 
And death restores our life anew. 

Death's fatal spear himself doth wound ; 
With his own fetters he is bound. 
Lo ! dead the Life of all men lies, 
That life anew for all might rise. 

That, since death thus hath passed on all, 
The dead might all arise again ; 
By his own death-blow death might fall, 
And o'er his unshared fall complain. 



THE SUPPER OF THE LAMB TO SHARE. 29 

E!)c Supper of t|}c ILamtj to <S!}are, 

{Ad Ca'iiam Agni prozndi.) 

An old Paschal Hymn, probably sung in the early Church by the 
newly-baptized catechumens, when, clad in white, they for the first time 
approached the Lord's table. Translated by Mrs. Charles. Dr. 
Neale's version begins, " The Lamb's high banquet we await." The 
date of the hymn is uncertain; but it is one of the most ancient, and has 
been by some ascribed to St. Ambrose. 



HE Supper of the Lamb to share, 
We come, in vesture white and fair ; 
The Red Sea crossed, our hymn we 
sing 
To Christ, our Captain and our King. 

His holy body on the cross. 
Parched, on that altar hung for us ; 
And, drinking of His crimson blood, 
We live upon the living God. 

Protected in the Paschal night 
From the destroying angel's might, 
And by a powerful hand set free 
From Pharaoh's bitter slavery. 

For Christ our Passover is slain, 
The Lamb is offered not in vain ; 



30 THE SUPPER OF THE LAMB TO SHARE. 

With truth's sincere unleavened bread, 
His flesh He gave, His blood He shed. 

O Victim ! worthy Thou forever, 
Who didst the bands of hell dissever ! 
Redeem Thy captives from the foe, 
The gift of life afresh bestow. 

When Christ from out the tomb arose, 
Victor o'er hell and all His foes, 
The tyrant forth in chains He drew, 
And planted Paradise anew. 

Author of all, to Thee we pray, 
In this our Easter joy to-day : 
From every weapon Death can wield, 
Thy trusting people ever shield I 



WE KEEP THE FESTIVAL. 



31 



[e Iteep tlje jFestibaL 



{Ad regias Agni dapes.) 

From the Roman Breviary, altered from the preceding Paschal Hymn, 
" Ad Ccenam Agni providi." The following translation is by Rev. Dr. 
Alexander Ramsay Thompson of New York, and was contributed to 
Dr. SchafTs " Christ in Song." Dr. Thompson was born in New York, 
1822; graduated at the University of New York, 1842; and was ordained 
minister of the Dutch Reformed Church. He served for some years as 
colleague of the late Rev. Dr. Bethune. Another version, by Edward 
Caswall, begins, "Now at the Lamb's high royal feast." The spirited 
version in the Episcopal Hymnal, beginning, "At the Lamb's high feast 
we sing," is largely altered by the compilers of " Hymns Ancient and 
Modem," from a translation by Robert Campbell (1850). The hymn 
beginning, " Once the angel started back," in the Episcopal Hymnal, is 
a part of a translation of the same hymn, by John Williams (born at 
Deerfield, Mass., in 1817; Assistant Bishop of Connecticut, 1851-1865; 
Bishop, 1865 to the present time). 

E keep the festival 
Of the slain Lamb our King; 
i* The Red Sea passed, 
And safe at last, 




Our Leader's praise we sing. 



His love ineffable 

He pledged in precious blood ; 

And Priest most high. 

The altar by, 
Himself devoting, stood. 



32 WE KEEP THE FESTIVAL. 

The sacred crimson sign 
The avenging angel knew ; 
And the sea fled 
Back at Christ's tread, 
And gave a pathway through. 

Christ is our Passover ! 

And we will keep the feast 
With the new leaven, 
The bread of Heaven : 

All welcome, even the least ! 

O Heavenly Champion ! 

Death thought to vanquish Thee ! 

But Death is slain ; 

And Thou again 
Art risen, and we are free. 

Hail, mighty Conqueror ! 
Under Thy glorious feet 

The tyrant lies. 

And gasps, and dies : 
What praise for Thee is meet ? 

Forth from the gloomy prison 
Jesus, we follow Thee, 

With broken chain, 

With ended pain, 
To life and liberty ! 



LIGHT'S GLITTERING MORN. 33 

All glory be to Thee ! 
All worship to Thy name ! 

Thee we adore, 

And evermore 
Will celebrate thy fame ! 



ligfjt's ^Itttcrmg JHorn Betiecfes ti}e %\-^. 

{Aurora hicis riitilat.) 

Ascribed to St. Ambrose, 340-397. The following version is given 
by the compilers of " Hymns Ancient and Modern," altered from Dr. 
Neale's translation. Mrs. Charles has written a somewhat smoother and 
freer translation ; but the following is preferable, because of its close ad- 
herence to the form and spirit of the original. Mrs. Charles's version 
begins, " The morning kindles all the sky." 

ajIGHT'S glittering morn bedecks the 
sky, 
Heaven thunders forth its victor-cry, 
The glad earth shouts her triumph high. 
And groaning hell makes wild reply ; 

While He, the King, the mighty King, 
Despoiling Death of all its sting, 
And trampling down the powers of night, 
Brings forth His ransomed saints to Light. 




34 LIGHT'S GLITTERING MORN: 

His Tomb of late the threefold guard 
Of watch and stone and seal had barred ; 
But now, in pomp and triumph high, 
He comes from death to Victory. 

The pains of hell are loosed at last. 
The days of mourning now are past ; 
An Angel robed in light hath said, 
"The Lord is risen from the dead." 

The Apostles' hearts were full of pain 
For their dear Lord so lately slain, 
By rebel servants doomed to die 
A death of cruel agony. 

With gentle voice the Angel gave 
The women tidings at the grave : 
" Fear not, your Master shall ye see ; 
He goes before to Galilee." 

Then, hastening on their eager way 
The joyful tidings to convey, 
Their Lord they met, their living Lord, 
And, falling at His feet, adored. 

The Eleven, when they hear, with speed 
To Galilee forthwith proceed. 



LIGHTS GLITTERING MORN. 35 

That there once more they may behold 
The Lord's dear Face, as He foretold. 

That Easter-tide with joy was bright, 
The sun shone out with fairer light, 
When, to their longing eyes restored, 
The Apostles saw their risen Lord. 

He bade them see His hands, His side, 
Where yet the glorious wounds abide ; 
O tokens true, which made it plain 
Their Lord indeed was risen again ! 

Jesu, the King of Gentleness, 
Do Thou Thyself our hearts possess, 
That we may give Thee, all our days, 
The tribute of our grateful praise ! 



36 ■ HAIL, DAY OF DAYS! 

f^ail, 29a2 of IBags ! Cn Peals of praise. 

[Salve, festa Dies, toto venerabilis cevo.) 

By Venantius Fortunatus, Bishop of Poictiers, born in 530, died 
in 609. His poems are the connecting link between those of SeduHus and 
Prudentius and those of the middle ages. He was long the fashionable 
poet of his day ; but later in life his aspirations and his verse took on a 
holier character, and he wrote some beautiful hymns. The following 
translation by W. J. C. is a very free one, in a different measure from 
that of the original. There is another English version by Mrs. Charles; 
also another by the translator of the following, identical as to the first 
stanza, but differing widely as to the others. 

I AIL, Day of days ! in peals of praise 
^{ Throughout all ages owned, 

When Christ, our God, hell's empire 
trod. 
And high o'er heaven was throned. 

This glorious morn the world new-born 

In rising beauty shows : 
How, with her Lord to life restored, 

Her gifts and graces rose ! 

The spring serene in sparkling sheen 

The flower-clad earth arrays : 
Heaven's portal bright its radiant light 

In fuller flood displays. 




HAIL, DAY OF DAYS! 2>7 

The fiery sun in loftier noon 

O'er heaven's high orbit shines, 
As o'er the tide of waters wide 

He rises and declines. 

From hell's deep gloom, from earth's dark 
tomb, 

The Lord in triumph soars : 
The forests raise their leafy praise, 

The fiowery field adores. 

As star by star He mounts afar. 

And hell imprisoned lies, 
Let stars and light and depth and height 

In Hallelujahs rise. 

Lo ! He Who died, the Crucified, 

God over all He reigns ; 
On Him we call, His creatures all, 

Who heaven and earth sustains. 



38 THE MORNING PURPLES ALL THE SKY. 



^jje IHornmg Purples all tfje ^Itg* 

{Aurora ccelum pttrpzirat.) 

An ancient Paschal Hymn, found in manuscripts at least as old as the 
beginning of the ninth century. There are several different texts in the 
original. The translation which follows is by Rev. Dr. A. R. Thompson 
of New York, and was contributed to Dr. Schaff's " Christ in Song." 
There are other translations, by Rev. J. Chandler, " This Holy Morn, so 
fair and bright; " and by Caswall, " The Dawn was purpling over the Sky." 

"HE morning purples all the sky, 
The air with praises rings ; 
Defeated hell stands sullen by, 
The world exulting sings ; 
Glory to God ! our glad lips cry : 

All praise and worship be 
On earth, in heaven, to God Most High, 
For Christ's great victory ! 

While He, the King all strong to save. 

Rends the dark doors away. 
And through the breaches of the grave 

Strides forth into the day, 
Glory to God ! our glad lips cry : 

All praise and worship be 
On earth, in heaven, to God Most High, 

For Christ's great victory ! 




THE MORNING PURPLES ALL TILE SKY. 39 

Death's captive, in his gloomy prison 

Fast fettered He has lain ; 
But he has mastered Death, has risen. 

And Death wears now the chain. 
Glory to God ! our glad lips cry : 

All praise and worship be 
On earth, in heaven, to God Most High, 

For Christ's great victory ! 

The shining angels cry, " Away 

With grief ! no spices bring ; 
Not tears, but songs, this joyful day, 

Should greet the rising King ! " 
Glory to God ! our glad lips cry : 

All praise and worship be 
On earth, in heaven, to God Most High, 

For Christ's great victory ! 

That Thou our Paschal Lamb mayst be. 

And endless joy begin, 
Jesus, Deliverer, set us free 

From the dread death of sin. 
Glory to God ! our glad lips cry : 

All praise and worship be 
On earth, in heaven, to God Most High, 

For Christ's great victory ! 



40 O THOU WHO ONCE FROM DEATH. 



© Efjou SEJjo once from ©eatfj tftt(St Etge. 

(A ?noi'te qui Te suscitans.) 
An ancient Compline hymn, translated by John George Smith. 




THOU Who once from death didst 
rise, 

Effulgent with new victories, 
Lighten the darkness of our night, 
And shield us with Thy gifts of might. 

Oh, grant that when our limbs shall lie 
Wrapt in sleep's needful lethargy, 
Our spirits then, from fetters free, 
May upward soar, O Lord, to Thee. 

And, lest the fiery darts that fly 
By night should work us injury. 
With Thy right hand victorious keep 
Watch o'er Thy servants while they sleep. 

And when the cord shall be unwound 
With which our guilty race is bound. 
Grant that we be not crushed beneath 
The weisfht of everlastino- death. 



YE CHOIRS OF NEW JERUSALEM. 4 1 



gc Cijotrs of NebJ Scrusalem, 

{Chorus N'cn'iB Jerusalem.) 

By St. Fulbert of Chartres, who died about 1029. He was 
a man of very wide and varied attainments, and became distinguished 
throughout France for his abiHties and wisdom. His advice was sought 
by kings and princes. He conducted a theological college at Chartres, 
and was consecrated bishop of that diocese. His writings which remain 
consist of hymns, letters, sermons, and theological treatises. The follow- 
ing version is taken from " Hymns Ancient and Modern," where it is 
altered from a translation by an unknown writer. There is another trans- 
lation in Dr. Neale's " Mediaeval Hymns." 




E choirs of New Jerusalem, 
Your sweetest notes employ, 
The Paschal victory to hymn 
In strains of holy joy. 



For Juda's Lion bursts His chains, 

Crushing the serpent's head ; 
And cries aloud, through death's domains, 

To wake the imprisoned dead. 

Devouring depths of hell their prey 

At His command restore ; 
His ransomed hosts pursue their way 

Where Jesus goes before. 



42 PRAISE TO CHRIST. 

Triumphant in His glory now, 

To Him all power is given ; 
To Him in one Communion bow 

All saints in earth and heaven. 

While we, His soldiers, praise our King, 

His mercy we implore, 
Within His Palace bright to bring 

And keep us evermore. 

All glory to the Father be ; 

All glory to the Son ; 
All glory, Holy Ghost, to Thee, 

While endless ages run. 

Alleluia ! Amen, 



praise to Cfjrtgt bJttlj Suppliant Fotceg* 

(Laudes Christo redempti voce.) 
A Prose of the eleventh century, translated by Richard Frederick 

LiTTLEDALE. 

RAISE to Christ, with suppliant 
voices, 
Let His ransomed people sing : 
Let the world which now rejoices 
Bless the Son of God, its King. 




PRAISE TO CHRIST. 43 

Ye, of Heaven's shrine the warders, 

Fellow-citizens of earth, 
Standing in your ninefold orders. 

Join us to your festal mirth. 

Sing aloud, O highest regions ! 

Lowest deeps, your echoes raise ! 
To the Lotd, in glad allegiance, 

Let all spirits give their praise. 
God, as Man Himself concealing. 

Born in flesh to save mankind, 
Bearing shame for sinners' healing. 

Yet as God in wonders shined. 

With our human form invested. 

Truly Man, He dwelt below. 
And no Godhead manifested 

At the tempting of the foe. 
Craft with wisdom He defeated. 

And the knots of sin untied ; 
On the Cross, His work completed, 

There for us a Victim died. 

To His Father sacrificing, 

By His death He sin hath slain : 

Now, with noble pomp arising. 

From the depths He comes again ; 



44 PRAISE TO CHRIST. ;; 

Comes victorious over evil, " 

• Spoiling hell of all its prey, 

Binding in His chains the Devil, 5 

. . i 

On this glad triumphant day, — .i 

\ 

Day which brightest radiance giveth, \ 

Now that Egypt's gloom i^ o'er 

When He rose. Who ever liveth ; 

In the flesh which Mary bore : \ 

Christ, Who here with mortals tarried, : 

While the straying sheep He sought, j 

Which, upon his shoulders carried,, j 

To the Father He hath brought. i 



JESU, THE VERY THOUGHT OF THEE. 45 

3esu, t!)e Fert Ef)oug|)t of dee* 

CJcsH, Dtclcis Meinoria.) 

By St. Bernard of Clairvaux, born in Fontaine, Burgundy, in 1091 ; 
died in 1153. He has been called the best and greatest man of his age, 
and Luther speaks of him as " the best monk that ever lived." He was 
the son of a nobleman, and was educated at the University of Paris. His 
tastes early inclined him to a monastic life; and, after three years spent 
in the Cistercian monastery of Citeaux, at the age of twenty-five he was 
appointed abbot of a new monastery at Clairvau.x. This position he re- 
tained till his death, declining repeated offers of high preferment. He 
was often appealed to for counsel by kings and popes, and it was through 
his persuasion that the King of France undertook the crusade of 1146. 
The following is the first part of his Jubilation on the Name of Jesus, a 
hymn of about two hundred lines, which Dr. Schaff characterizes as the 
sweetest and most evangelical of the middle ages. The translation is by 
Edward Caswall. There are translations by Neale, Mrs. Charles, and 
others; but Mr. Caswall's is the sweetest and smoothest. In Dr. SchafTs 
"Christ in Song," in " Hymns Ancient and Modern," and in nearly all 
hymn-books, — for the lines have found their way into universal hymnol- 
ogy, — only the first four or five verses of this part are given. The last 
four verses entitle it to a place with Easter poems, and are quite too beau- 
tiful to be cast aside. The quotation is taken directly from Mr. Cas- 
wall's volume of "Hymns and Poems," with the lines which have been 
mutilated or marred by the hymn-menders restored. 

ESU, the very thought of Thee 

With sweetness fills my breast ; 
But sweeter far Thy face to see, 
And in Thy presence rest. 

Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame, 
Nor can the memory find, 




46 JESU, THE VERY THOUGHT OF THEE. 

A sweeter sound than Thy blest name, 
O Saviour of mankind ! 



O hope of every contrite heart ! 

O joy of all the meek ! 
To those who fall, how kind Thou art ! 

How good to those who seek ! 

But what to those who find ? Ah, this 
' Nor tongue nor pen can show : 
The love of Jesus, what it is, 
None but His lovers know. 

O Jesu, Light of all below ! 

Thou Fount of life and fire ! 
Surpassing all the joys we know, 

And all we can desire ! 

Thee will I seek, at home, abroad. 

Who everywhere art nigh ; 
Thee in my bosom's cell, O Lord, 

As on my bed I lie. 

With Mary to Thy tomb I'll haste. 

Before the dawning skies ; 
And all around, with longing, cast 

My soul's inquiring eyes ; 



THE GA TES OF DEA TH ARE BROKEN. 47 

Beside Thy grave will make my moan, 

And sob my heart away ; 
Then at Thy feet sink trembling down, 

And there adoring stay ; 

Nor from my tears and sighs refrain, 

Nor those dear feet release, 
My Jesu, till from Thee I gain 

Some blessed word of peace ! 



Ho, t!je Crates of ©cat!) are 33roften* 

{Mortis portis fractis, fortis.) 

By Peter the Venerable, bom in Auvergne, in 1092 or 1094, of a 
noble family; died in 1156. He was elected abbot of Clugny in 1122, 
and it was with him that Abelard found shelter after the condemnation of 
his errors. He was a contemporary of Bernard of Clairvaux, and engaged 
in a keen controversy with him over the relative merits of the Clugniac 
and Cistercian monks. He gave to Christendom its first accurate trans- 
lation of the Koran, and he wrote a refutation of Mahometanism. The 
following translation is by Mrs. Charles. 

^O, the gates of death are broken, 

And the strong man armed is 
spoiled, — 
Of his armor, which he trusted. 
By the Stronger Arm despoiled. 

Vanquished is the prince of hell. 
Smitten by the Cross he fell. 




48 THE GA TES OF DEA TH ARE BROKEN. 

Then the purest light resplendent 

Shone those seats of darkness through, 

When, to save whom he created, 
God willed to create anew. 

That the sinner might not perish, 

For him the Creator dies ; 
By Whose death our dark lot changing, 

Life again for us doth rise. 

Satan groaned, defeated then, 

When the Victor ransomed men ; 

Fatal was to him the strife, 

Unto man the source of life ; 

Captured as he seized his prey, 
He is slain as he would slay. 

Thus the King all hell hath vanquished 

Gloriously and mightily ; 
On the first day leaving Hades, 

Victor He returns on high. 

Thus God brought man back to heaven. 
When He rose from out the grave, 

The pure primal life bestowing. 
Which creating first He gave. 

By the sufferings of his Maker, 

To his perfect Paradise 
The first dweller thus return eth. 

Wherefore these o:lad sonsrs arise. ' 



THE WORLD'S FRESH DAWN OF BIRTH. 49 



{Alintdi Rcnoz'atio.) 

By Adam of St. Victor, whom Neale and Trench agree in regard- 
ing as the greatest of mediaeval poets. He was born in Brittany, — in 
what year is uncertain, — and died about the year 1192. He was the 
author of more than a hundred sequences, which were collected and pub- 
lished by M. Gautier in 1858. His hymns are full of Old-Testament allu- 
sions, employed as types to illustrate New- Testament truths; and the 
theological often predominates over the devotional interest. But his verse 
has a rich melody, and an exquisite art and variety, and abounds in deep 
and tender feeling. The following fine translation is by P. S. Worslev. 

OW the world's fresh dawn of birth 
Teems with new rejoicings rife : 
Christ is rising, and on earth 
All things with Him rise to life. 
Feeling this memorial day, 
Him the elements obey, 

Serve, and lay aside their strife. 

Gleamy fire flits to and fro, 

Throbs the everlasting air, 
Water without pause doth flow. 

And the earth stands firm and fair ; 
Light creations upward leap, 
Heavier to the centre keep. 

All things renovation share. 




50 THE WORLD'S FRESH DA WN OF BIRTH. 

Clearer are the skies above, 
And more quiet is the sea ; 

Each low wind is full of love, 
Our own vale is blooming free ; 

Dryness flushing into green. 

Warm delight where frost hath been, 
For spring cometh tenderly. 

Melted is the ice of death. 

And the world's prince driven away ; 
From amidst us vanisheth 

All his old tyrannic sway. 
He, who sought to clasp more tight 
That wherein he held no right, 

Fails of his peculiar prey. 

Life is vanquisher of Death, 
And the joy man lost of old, 

That he now recovereth, 
Even Paradise to hold. 

For the cherub keeping ward. 

By the promise of the Lord, 

Turns the many-flaming sword. 
And the willing gates unfold. 




WELCOME THE TRIUMPHAL TOI^EN. 5 I 



SEclcome tije CrtumpSal Eoken, 

{Hcc est Dies Trhmtphalis.) 

By Adam of St Victor. Translated by P. S. Worsley. (See note 
to the preceding hymn.) 

ELCOME the triumphal token, — 
Day to ruined world how sweet, 
When thefoeman's power was broken. 
And our ills found comfort meet ! 
Know ye not this day so splendid. 

Shining with so fair a crown, 
Witnessed Sin's dominion ended. 
And the Evil One cast down ? 

Then, the Prince of Darkness flying-, 

Every baneful charm did cease ; 
Health came to the sick and dying, 

Rose on earth the reign of peace ; 
Death the sting of death undoing, 

Hope of life returned to-day ; 
Sin's stronghold was hurled to ruin. 

And pollution chased away. 

Since, then, Christ our souls hath cherished 
In a union such as this. 



52 HAIL THE MUCH-REMEMBERED DAY! 

And on earth hath freely perished 
For the things we wrought amiss, 

Lightly may we hymn His story, 
And our Paschal banquet spread ; 

Heart, word, work, proclaim His glory, 
Risinsf with Him from the dead. 



[Ecce Dies Celebris !) 
By Adam of St. Victor. Translated by Rev. J. M. Neale, D.D. 



AIL the much-remembered Day ! 
Night from morning flies away ; 
Life the chains of Death hath 
burst : 
Gladness, welcome ! Grief, begone ! 
Greater glory draweth on 

Than confusion at the first. 
Flies the shadowy from the true : 
Flies the ancient from the new : 
Comfort hath each tear dispersed. 

Hail, our Pascha, that wast dead ! 
What preceded in the Head, 

That each member hopes to gain ; 



HAIL THE MUCH-REMEMBERED DAY I 53 

Christ, our newer Pascha now, 
Late in death content to bow. 

When the spotless Lamb was slain. . 

From the Cross's pole of glory- 
Flows the must of ancient story 

In the Church's wine-vat stored : 
From the press, now trodden duly, 
Gentile first-fruits gathered newly 

Drink the precious liquor poured. 

Sackcloth, worn with foul abuses, 
Passes on to royal uses ; 
Grace in that garb at length we see, 
The Flesh hath conquered misery. 
They, by whom their monarch perished, 
Lost the kingdom that they cherished ; 
And, for a sign and wonder, Cain 
Is set, who never shall be slain. 

Reprobated and rejected 

Was this Stone, that, now elected. 

For a Trophy stands erected, 

And a precious Corner-stone : 
Sin's, not Nature's, termination, 
He creates a new creation, 
And, Himself their colligation, 

Binds two peoples into one. 



54 THE DAY THE LORD HATH MADE. 

Give we glory to the Head, 
O'er the members love be shed ! 



Befjolti tjje ©as tfje ISorti jjatfj tnatie! 

[Salve, Dies Dieruin Gloria.) 

By Adam of St. Victor. Translated by H. R. B., in Rev. Orby 
Shipley's " Lyra Messianica." 




EHOLD the Day the Lord hath made ! 
That peerless day which cannot fade ; 
That day of light, that day of joy, 
Of glory which shall never cloy. 

The day on which the world was framed 
Has signal honor ever claimed ; 
But Christ, arising from the dead, 
Unrivalled brightness o'er it shed. 

In hope of their celestial choice. 
Now let the sons of light rejoice : 
Christ's members in their lives declare 
What likeness to their Head they bear. 

For solemn is our feast to-day, 
And solemn are the vows we pay : 



THE DAY THE LORD HATH MADE. 55 

This day's surpassing greatness claims 
Surpassing joy, surpassing aims. 

The Paschal victory displays 
The glory of our festal days ; 
Which type and shadow dimly bore, 
In promise to the saints of yore. 

The veil is rent ; and lo ! unfold 
The things the ancient Law foretold : 
The figure from the substance flies, 
And light the shadow's place supplies. 

The type the spotless Lamb conveyed, 
The goat, where Israel's sins were laid ; 
Messiah, purging our offence, 
Disclosed in all their hidden sense. 

By freely yielding up His breath. 
He freed us from the bonds of death ; 
Who on that Prey forbidden flew, 
And lost the prey that was his due. 

The ills on sinful flesh that lay 
His sinless flesh hath done away, 
Which, blooming fresh on that third morn, 
Assurance gave to souls forlorn. 



56 CHRIST, UPON THE FRIDAY SLAIN. 

O wondrous Death of Christ ! may we 
Be made to Uve to Christ by Thee ! 
O deathless Death, destroy our sin, 
Give us the prize of Hfe to win ! 



CJjrist, upon tjje jFrttfag ^lain* 

(Sexta passtis feria.) 



By Adam of St. Victor. Translated by Richard Frederic Little- 
dale, D.C.L. See the biographical notice prefixed to the hymn, " Our 
Paschal Joy at last is here." 




HRIST, upon the Friday slain, 
When three days were past again, 
Rose victorious, 
And, triumphant o'er the Tomb, 
Lifts His loved ones out of gloom. 
Makes them glorious. 

For the people of His Name, 
He, upon the cross of shame. 

Dead was lying : 
In the grave a while He lay. 
Then, at dawning of the day, 

Rose undying. 



CHRIST, UPON THE FRIDAY SLAIN. 5/ 

In His passion and His cross, 
With a bulwark sure from loss 

We are gifted : 
By His resurrection bright, 
From the grave of sin and night 

We are lifted. 

Offered up for sinners, Christ 
As their sacrifice sufficed 

Unrepeated : 
By the precious blood He spilt, 
Jesus washed our souls from guilt, 

Hell defeated. 

Once He lay within the grave, 
Lest the race He came to save 

Twice should perish : 
Now He opens Heaven wide, 
Comes to every mourner's side, — 

Comes to cherish. 

He the Lion, strong in fight, 
Rising up to-day, His might 

Forth is telling ; 
With the arms of righteousness, 
Satan, Prince of wickedness, 

Ever quelling. 



58 CHRIST, UPON THE FRIDAY SLAIN. 

Now is come the Lord's own day, j 

Whereon He hath washed away I 

Earth's pollution ; j 

Whereon death was slain in strife, i 

And the foe hath made of life | 

Restitution. I 

\ 

So, from hearts made pure from stain, ; 

Now the Alleluia strain i 

Doubly pealeth : \ 

Now all evil hath its close, < 

And the life which Heaven knows \ 

God revealeth. \ 

In the world's late eventide, ■; 

Raise Thou up Thy servants tried, | 

Jesu Holy : I 

May this glad and festal day | 

Thy salvation bring for aye j 

To the lowly ! 




PURGE WE OUT THE ANCIENT LEAVEN. 59 

^gurofc ixie out tjjc Ancient Heaben* 

[Zyvia vctus expiirgetur.) 

By Adam of St. Victor. Translated by Rev. J. M. Neale, D.D. 
The original contains thirteen stanzas, of which we give only the first 
three and the last two, — the remainder of the sequence being taken up 
with a somewhat subtle application of Old-Testament types. 

URGE we out the ancient leaven, 
That the feast of earth and heaven 
We may celebrate aright. 
On to-day our hope stands founded : 
Moses teacheth how unbounded 
Is its virtue and its might. 

This day Egypt's treasure spoiled, 
And the Hebrews freed, that toiled, 

Pressed with bondage and in chains, 
From the mortar, brick, and stubble : 
Heaviest toil and sorest trouble 

Had they known in Zoan's plains. 

Now the voice of exultation, 
Now the triumph of salvation, 

Free and wide its tidings flings. 
This is the day the Lord hath made ; the day 
That bids our sin and sorrow flee away ; 
Life and light and hcaltli that brinirs. 



60 PURGE WE OUT THE ANCIENT LEAVEN. i 

\ 

Death and life have striven newly : i 

Jesus Christ hath risen truly ; 1 

And with Christ ascended duly, \ 

Many a witness that He lives : \ 

Dawn of newness, happy morrow, ■■ 

Wipes away our eve of sorrow : ' 

Since from death our life we borrow,' \ 

Brightest joy the season gives. i 

Jesu, Victor, Life, and Head ; ! 

Jesu, Way Thy people tread ; , 

By Thy death from death released, ; 
Call us to the Paschal Feast, 

That with boldness we may come : 
Living Water, Bread undying, 

Vine, each branch with life supplying, ; 

Thou must cleanse us. Thou must feed us, j 

From the second death must lead us "\ 

Upward to our heavenly home ! j 



STILL THY SORROW, MAGDALENAl 6 1 

.Still tfjg .Sorrob, JHagtialcnal 

(Pone liictum, Magdalena !) 

A sweet and jubilant hymn, of uncertain date and authorship. In 
" Lyra Messianica," and in Dr. Schaff's " Christ in Song," the name of 
the author is not given; and by Mrs. Charles it is ascribed to Adam of St. 
Victor ("Voice of Christian Life in Song," p. 182). The original may 
be found in Trench's " Sacred Latin Poetry," p. 159. There are several 
translations, by Mrs. Charles, W. J. C, and others; but the following 

— contributed by Rev. Dr. Edward A. Washburn to " Christ in Song " 

— is much the best. Dr. Washburn was born at Boston, April 16, 1819 ; 
graduated at Harvard University 1838; studied theology at Andover 
and New Haven: was rector of St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Newbury- 
port, 1844-51; rector of St. John's, Hartford, 1S53-62, and professor of 
church polity in Berkeley Divinity School, Middletown; rector of St. 
Mark's, Philadelphia, 1862-65; from 1865 to date, rector of Calvary 
Church, New York. 



s»siTILL thy sorrow, Magdalena ! 

Wipe the teardrops from thine 
eyes : 




Not at Simon's board thou kneelest, 
Pouring thy repentant sighs : 
All with thy glad heart rejoices ; 
All things sing, with happy voices, 
Hallelujah ! 

Laugh with rapture, Magdalena ! 

Be thy drooping forehead bright: 
Banished now is every anguish, 

Breaks anew thy morning light : 



62 STILL THY SORROW, MAGDALENAt 

Christ from death the world hath freed ; 
He is risen, is risen indeed : 
Hallelujah ! 

Joy ! exult, O Magdalena ! 

He hath burst the rocky prison : 
Ended are the days of darkness : 

Conqueror hath He arisen. 
Mourn no more the Christ departed ; 
Run to welcome Him, glad-hearted : 
Hallelujah ! 

Lift thine eyes, O Magdalena ! 

See ! thy living Master stands ; 
See His face, as ever, smiling ; 

See those wounds upon His hands, 
On His feet, His sacred side, — 
Gems that deck the Glorified : 
Hallelujah! 

Live, now live, O Magdalena ! 

, Shining is thy new-born day ; 
Let thy bosom pant with pleasure, 

Death's poor terror flee away ; 
Far from thee the tears of sadness : 
Welcome love, and welcome gladness ! 
Hallelujah ! 



NOW THY GENTLE LAMB, SION! 63 



Nobj i:|)2 Gentle 3Lam&, © <Ston! 

{Mitis Agnus, Leo Fords.) 
A hymn of uncertain date, translated by Henry Trend, D.D. 




OW thy gentle Lamb, O Sion, 
Shows the strength of Juclah's Lion 
Hell's stern fetters hold him not : 
Dawns the third day o'er His prison, 
And our mighty Saviour, risen. 

Makes us share His glorious lot. 

Holy women, with devotion 

Such as springs from love's emotion, 

Bring sweet unguents to His tomb : 
There, O wonderful transition ! 
Worthy of the heavenly vision, 

Glory meets them in the gloom. 

One in faith that scorns defection. 
Equal in their warm affection 

For His Name Whose grave they seek, 
Back they see the stone is taken. 
And the opened tomb forsaken, 

Whence they hear an Angel speak : — 



64 JOY! O JOY! YE BROKEN-HEARTED \ 

Fear not, loving souls ; but going 
Quickly back, the vision showing, 

Say to Peter and the rest, 
Jesus lives, o'er death victorious, 
Now to reign forever glorious, 

In the regions of the blest ! 



3(02! © 302 ! ge Brota#artetit 

{Cedant justi signa lucttis.) 

An ancient hymn, of uncertain date and authorship; translated by 
Herbert Kynaston, D.D. Dr. Kynaston was born at Warwick, Nov. 
23, 1809; was educated at Westminster and Oxford; became tutor, philo- 
logical lecturer, and master of the schools; was ordained in 1834; became 
curate of Culham; held successively the livings of St. Botolph, Aldgate, 
and of St. Nicholas Cole Abbey, London; and, in 1853, was appointed a 
prebend of St. Paul's. He is the author of a hundred o' more original 
hymns and translations. 

OY ! O joy ! ye broken-hearted ! 
Joy ! the dreadful sea is parted : 
Here and there the ramping wave 
Frowns beside an empty grave. 
With His blood the Lamb hath laved us, 
With His passing Christ has saved us, 
Shouting, on the Red-sea shore. 
Alleluia ! evermore. 




JOY! O JOY! YE BROKEN-HEARTED ! 65 

Loud above the billows' thunder 
Sound the chains He rives asunder: 

Saints below, of ancient days, 

Glisten with His rising rays : 
Saints who died before they saw Him, 
Yearn to rise on earth before Him ; 

Yearn to take the form He wore : 

Alleluia ! evermore. 

All our marbled slumber breaking, 
From our sinful dreams awaking. 

From our worldly cerements free, 

Jesus, make us rise with Thee ! 
Thee, our death, hell's portals rending, 
Thee, our life, to God ascending. 

All our blessings to restore, 

Alleluia ! evermore. 




66 ALLELUIA! ALLELUIA! 

t 
i 

Alleluia! Alleluia! ; 

{Alleluia! Alleluia! Finita Jatn stitif prcelia.) 

A spirited hymn, the author oi which is unknown. By H. A. Daniel, 

in his " Thesaurus Hymnologicus," it is referred to the twelfth century; ; 

by Dr. J. M. Neale, who translates it, to the thirteenth. A less-spirited i 

version, by Rev. Francis Pott, may be found in " Hymns Ancient and ! 

Modern." j 

LLELUIA! Alleluia! 

Finished is the battle now, 1 

The crown is on the Victor's brow. i 

Hence with sadness ! 

Sing with gladness, ; 

Alleluia ! ] 

Alleluia ! Alleluia ! 

After sharp death that Him befell, \ 

Jesus Christ hath harrowed hell ! -. 

Earth is singing, 

Heaven is ringing, i 

Alleluia ! | 

-I 

Alleluia! Alleluia! ; 

On the third morning He arose, | 

Bright with victory o'er His foes. i 

Sing we lauding, 1 

And applauding, I 

Alleluia! j 



CHRIST THE LORD IS RISEN TO-DAY. 6/ 

Alleluia! Alleluia! 
He hath closed hell's brazen door, 
And heaven is open evermore ! 

Hence with sadness ! 

Sing with gladness, 

Alleluia ! 

Alleluia ! Alleluia ! 
Lord, by Thy wounds we call on Thee, 
So from ill death to set us free ; 

That our living 

Be thanksgiving. 

Alleluia ! 



Cfjrist tfje iLorti is Bigcn Eo^tiag, 

( Victijuce Paschali hmdes.) 

An anonymous hymn, based upon a Latin Sequence of the twelfth or 
thirteenth century. From Archbishop Manning's Collection for the use 
of St. Mary of the Angels Church, Bayswater. 




HRIST the Lord is risen to-day; 
Christians, haste your vows to pay ; 
3J Offer ye your praises meet 
At the Paschal Victim's feet. 
For the sheep the Lamb hath bled. 
Sinless in the sinner's stead : 



68 CHRIST THE LORD IS RISEN TO-DAY. 

"Christ is risen," to-day we cry ; 
Now He lives, no more to die. 

Christ, the Victim undefiled, 
Man to God hath reconciled ; 
Whilst in strange and awful strife 
Met together Death and Life ; 
Christians, on this happy day. 
Haste with joy your vows to pay ; 
" Christ is risen," to-day we cry. 
Now He lives, no more to die. 

Christ, Who once for sinners bled, 
Now the First-born from the dead, 
Throned in endless might and power, 
Lives and reigns for evermore. 
Hail, eternal Hope on high ! 
Hail, Thou King of victory ! 
Hail, Thou Prince of Life adored ! 
Help and save us, gracious Lord ! 



FORTH TO THE PASCHAL VICTIM. 69 



JForti) to t!)e pascfjal Victim, Cfjrtstians, 
iiring* 

( Victimcv Paschal i latcdes.) 
A more literal translation of the same Sequence, by Edward Caswall. 



\£S^% 



ORTH to the Paschal Victim, Chris- 
tians, bring 
Your sacrifice of praise. 



The Lamb redeems the sheep ; 
And Christ, the Sinless One, 
Hath to the Father sinners reconciled. 

Together Death and Life 
In a strange conflict strove ; 
The Prince of Life, who died, 
Now lives and reigns. 

What thou sawest, Mary, say, 
As thou wentest on the way. 

I saw the tomb wherein the Living One had 

lain ; 
I saw His glory as He rose again ; 
Napkin and linen clothes, and Angels twain ; 



70 SPRING IS IN ITS BEAUTY GLOWING. 

Yea, Christ is risen, my hope, and He 
Will go before you into Galilee. 

We know that Christ indeed has risen from 
the grave : 
Hail, thou King of victory ! 
Have mercy, Lord, and save. 



^prtncj is vd its 3Seautg flloixiing, 

{Ecce tenipiis est vernale.) 

Translated from a Sequence of the thirteenth century by Henry Trend, 
D.D. See the biographical notice prefixed to the hymn, " Hail, Day of 
Joyous Rest ! " 




PRING is in its beauty glowing. 
When the tree unique in growing. 
Through the world its branches 
throwing, 
Bears our wondrous Ransom, showing 
Man o'er death victorious. 

Urged by Jews of cruel feeling, 
Men His mystic fruit are peeling; 
O'er the cross His blood is stealing; 
Heaven grows dark, the earth is reeling, 
At this deed notorious. 



SPEI.VG IS IN ITS BEAUTY GLOWING, yi 

Charged with blasphemy and treason, 
See Him scourged, and suffering lesion 
From the crown of thorns' adhesion, 
Tasting gall, and without reason 
Bearing scoffs opprobrious. 

But while frantic Jews are crying. 
Lead Him off for crucifying ! 
While in torments He is dying, 
To our race in misery lying 
Comes salvation glorious. 

Saints of God, from your dejection 
Rise in faith and strong affection ; 
Give your hearts to joy's direction; 
Lo ! the day of resurrection 

Dawns in bri<rhtness o'er us ! 



^2 YE SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF THE KING. 



ge ^ons antr ©augfjters of t|je %m^. 



{O Filil et FHIce!) 

An anonymous hymn from the Latin of the thirteenth century, trans- 
lated by Dr. Neale. The compilers of " Hymns Ancient and Modern " 
have altered and condensed Dr. Neale's version, giving it somewhat more 
of smoothness at the cost of strength and simplicity. Caswall has a 
translation, beginning, " Ye Sons and Daughters of the Lord." 




E sons and daughters of the King, 
Whom heavenly hosts in glory sing, 
To-day the grave hath lost its sting ! 
Alleluia. 



On that first morning of the week, 
Before the day began to break, 
They went their buried Lord to seek. 
Alleluia. 

Both Mary, as it came to pass, 
And Mary Magdalene it was. 
And Mary, wife of Cleopas. 
Alleluia. 

An Angel clad in white was he 
That sate and spake unto the three, 
'• Your Lord is gone to Galilee ! " 
Alleluia. 



y^E SOA'S AND DAUGHTERS OF THE KING. 73 

When John the Apostle heard the fame, 
He to the tomb with Peter came ; 
But in the way outran the same. 
Alleluia. 

That night the Apostles met in fear : 
Amidst them came their Lord most dear, 
And said, " Peace be unto all here ! " 
Alleluia. 

When Didymus had after heard 
That Jesus had fulfilled His word, 
He doubted if it were the Lord. 
Alleluia. 

"Thomas, behold My side," saith He; 
" My hands, my feet, my body, see : 
And doubt not, but believe in Me." 
Alleluia. 

No longer Didymus denied : 
He saw the hands, the feet, the side: 
" Thou art my Lord and God ! " he cried. 
Alleluia. 

Blessed are they that have not seen. 
And yet whose faith hath constant been : 
In life eternal they shall reign. 
Alleluia. 



74 SAINTS ON EARTH, AND SAINTS IN LIGHT. 

On this most holy Day of days 
Be laud and jubilee and praise : 
To God both hearts and voices raise. 
Alleluia. 

And we with Holy Church unite, 
As is both meet and just and right, 
In Glory to the King of Light. 
Alleluia. 



faints on lEartj), anU ^Saints in iligijt, 

( Cceli choris perennibits.) 

A hymn for Lauds, translated by Rev. Phipps Onslow,' and con- 
tributed to " Lyra Messianica." Mr. Onslow was born about 1824, and 
graduated at Oxford in 1846. He was ordained in 1847, served as curate 
of Longdon from 1847 to 1859, and has been rector of Upper Sapey, 
Herefordshire, since the latter dale. 




AINTS on earth, and saints in light. 
In your songs of praise unite ; 
Praise to Christ, the Heavenly King, 



O'er death's bondage triumphing. 

Flesh and soul death's law divides, 
Still the Word with each abides ; 
Flesh and soul death rends in twain, 
He reknits their life again. 



WORDS MAY NOT THY GLORY TELL. 75 

Whom the Virgin's womb revealed, — 
Womb of Virgin ne'er unsealed, — 
From the sealed cave outbroke, 
In death's womb to life awoke. 

Love, the sweetest known on high, 
Sternly, Jesu, bade Thee die ; 
Love, the Priest, Thy bitter death 
To the Father offereth. 

Jesu, risen Saviour, give 
Grace Thy risen life to live, — 
Grace, from sin's dark fetters free, 
Works of love to offer Thee. 



Mortis man not ^|}2 ^i^lorg telL 

( Te quanta Victor funeris.) 
A vesper hymn, translated by W. H. D., in " Lyra Messianica." 



ORDS may not Thy glory tell. 
Conqueror of death and hell. 
Whom the Cross but lately bore, 

Now alive for evermore. 

Marred by cruel blows wast Thou : 

Stars have no such glory now. 



']6 WORDS MAY NOT THY GLORY TELL. 

Though untouched by any need, 
Still with men Thou deign'st to feed. 
Needs no more the uttered word : 
Wind and wave no less have heard, 
Own their Lord, and pathway meet 
Spread before His passing feet. 
Fleshly fetters now forgot, 
Doors of brass may stay Thee not ; 
Other, yet the same — but free 
To come and go as liketh Thee. 
Lord ! our hope Thou biddest rise. 
Grasping life beyond the skies, 
Where Thy glory we shall view, 
In Thine image clothed anew. 



JESUS HATH VANISHED: ALL IN VAIN // 

Scgus !}atf} Fantsfjetr: all in Fain. 

{Erjimpe iandetii juste dolor.) 

This quaint and beautiful piece appears among the translations of Ed- 
ward Caswall, without any intimation as to the authorship or date of 
the original. Mr. Caswall, to whom we owe some of the finest translations 
that we have from the Latin sacred poets, was born in 1814, at Yately, in 
Hampshire, England. He graduated at Oxford in 1836, and was or- 
dained priest in 1839. In 1847 he joined the Church of Rome, and three 
years later was admitted into the Congregation of the Oratory at Bir- 
mingham, where he has since remained. He has published a volume of 
"Hymns and Poems," and several prose works. 

MARY MAGDALEN. 

ESUS hath vanished : all in vain 
I search for Him, and search again, 
Seeking to relieve my pain. 
My sobs the garden fill, 
My sighs in tears distil ; 
My heart is breaking. Where is He .'' 
Who hath hid my love from me .-' 

JESUS. 

Who is this in wild disorder. 
Running over bed and border.-* 

O lady, speak! 

Declare, declare, 

What floweret fair 




;/8 JESUS HA TH VANISHED . ALL IN VAIN. 

Hither you come to seek ; 
Wherefore these piteous tears bedew your 
cheek ! 

MARY MAGDALEN. 

Say, O gentle gardener, cay, 

Where have they borne my Lord away ? 
In what deep grove or glade 
Have they His body laid ? 
Where i^ that lily sweet, 
The Son of God most dear ? 
Tell me, oh, tell me where ! 

That I may go, and kiss His sacred feet, 

And my true Spouse adore, 

And to His Mother's arms the Son restore ! 

JESUS. 

Mary, what blindness hath come o'er thee ! 

I, thy Jesus, stand before thee, — 
I, that immortal flower 
Of Nazareth's fair bower; 

I, amid thousands, the Elect alone ; 

I, thy beloved ; I, thine own ! 

MARY MAGDALEN. 

Jesu, Master ! Thy dear sight 
Quite dissolves me with delight ! 
O Joy of joys ! to see thy face. 
And those celestial feet embrace ! 



HAIL THE HOL Y DA Y OF DA YS! 79 
JESUS. 

Touch me not yet : the hour is drawing nigh 
When thou shalt see Me glorified on high ; 
Then in Mine endless presence shalt thou 

rest, 
And, drinking of My light, live on forever 

blest ! 



fl^atl tf)e l^olg ©ag of ©ags ! 

{^Htrc est sancta solemititas solemiiitatitm.) 

A sequence from a manuscript missal translated by John William 
Hewett, in " Lyra Messianica." Mr. Hewett was born about 1828, 
graduated at Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1849, was ordained deacon in 
the same year, and priest the year following. He held the position of 
tutor of St. Nicholas College, Shoreham, for several years, and was after- 
ward curate of Bloxham and of Whitwick. He is the author of several 
antiquarian, historical, and ecclesiastical works, of some original hymns_ 
and of one or two volumes of translations of Latin hymns. 

AIL the holy day of days ! 

High the song of triumph raise ; 

To the Saviour's glory tell, 
How the cross hath vanquished hell, 
And the empire, old and strong, 
Satan's power had held so long. 
By the precious blood are we 
Now redeemed of Christ, and free : 




80 HAIL THE HOLY DAY OF DAYS! 

High thanksgiving therefore raise, 

Sing the great Redeemer's praise. 

King of kings, Thy saints unite 

To the choir of Angels bright ; 

Hear them when they make their prayer, 

For Thy worship is their care. 

Show them, Lord, Thy tender grace. 

All the sweetness of Thy face. 

Thou, Who wouldst not man should lie, 

Under righteous doom to die. 

Who, for man, didst stoop so low, 

Death Thyself to undergo, — 

Thou hast changed that law of doom, 

Rising from Thy sacred tomb. 

Now, Thy bitter passion done, 

Thou, the well-beloved Son 

Of the Father, throned on high, 

Rulest all below the sky. 

Alleluia ! Lord, we sing, 

Jesu, Christ, Redeemer, King! 



SMILE PRAISES, O SA'Vf 



^mile praises, © &k^\ 



{Platidite cccli.) 

The author and the date of the following are unknown ; it is not earlier 
than the fourteenth, and is possibly as recent as the sixteenth century. 
The translation is by Mrs. Elizabeth Charles, and is contained in her 
" Voice of Christian Life in Song." Mrs. Charles is the daughter of 
John Rundle, Esq., of Tavistock, Devonshire, England, where she was 
bom. She has written a very popular series of narratives, the scenes 
and characters in which are largely drawn from modern religious history. 
She has enriched hymnology by original hymns and translations; and the 
work from which the following is taken is one of considerable value and 
interest. 




MILE praises, O sky ! 

Soft breathe them, O air ! 
^ Below and on high. 
And everywhere. 
The black troop of storms 

Has yielded to calm ; 
Tufted blossoms are peeping, 
And early palm. 



Arouse thee, O spring ! 

Ye flowers, come forth, 
With thousand hues tinting 

The soft irreen earth ; 



82 SMILE PRAISES, SKY! 

Ye violets tender, 

And sweet roses bright, 

Gay Lent-lilies blended 
With pure lilies white. 

Sweep, tides of rich music, 

The full veins along ; 
And pour in full measure. 

Sweet lyres, your song. 
Sing, sing, for He liveth, — 

He lives, as He said ; 
The Lord has arisen 

Unharmed from the dead. 

Clap, clap your hands, mountains 

Ye valleys, resound ! 
Leap, leap for joy, fountains ! 

Ye hills, catch the sound. 
All triumph ! He liveth, — 

He lives, as He said ; 
The Lord hath arisen 

Unharmed from the dead. 



NOW MORNING LIFTS HER DEWY VEIL, "^l 



Woixr JHorntng iLtfts f}er ©ctou "^BtW. 

{Ad tcnipla iios riirsns vocat.) 

A translation of a Latin hymn of uncertain date and authorship. 
This version is by Rev. John Chandler (born about 1805, and, as late 
as 1872, still living in Surrey, England). It is a variation — considerably 
improved and strengthened — upon a translation of the same hymn by 
Rev. Isaac Williams (born in 1802, died in 1865). There is still another 
translation by Edward Caswall, beginning, " Again the Sunday morn." 

OW Morning lifts her dewy veil, 

With new-born blessings crowned : 
Oh, haste we, then, her light to hail 
In courts of holy ground ! 

But Christ, triumphant o'er the grave, 

Shines more divinely bright : 
Oh, sing we then His power to save, 

And walk we in His light ! 

When from the swaddling bands of shade 

Sprang forth the world so fair, 
In robes of brilliancy arrayed. 

Oh, what a Power was there ! 

When He, who gave His guiltless Son 
A guilty world to spare. 




84 NOW MORNING LIFTS HER DEWY VEIL. 

Restored to life the Holy One, 
Oh, what a Love was there ! 

When forth from its Creator's hand 

The earth in beauty stood. 
All decked with light at His command, 

He saw, and called it good. 

But still more lovely in His sight, 

The earth still fairer stood, 
When the Holy Lamb had washed it white 

In His atoning blood. 

Still, as the morning rays return. 

To the pious soul 'tis given 
In fancy's mirror to discern 

The radiant domes of heaven. 

But, now that our eternal Sun 
Hath shed His beams abroad. 

In Him we see the Holy One, 
And mount at once to God. 

Oh, holy, blessed Three in One ! 

May Thy pure light be given, 
That we the paths of death may shun. 

And keep the road to Heaven ! 



THOU, THE HEAVENS' ETERNAL KING! 85 



© E|}ou, tfje l^eabens' lEternal l^ing I 

(A'i^jr sempiteme ccelitum.) 

From the Roman Breviary. Translated by Edward Caswall. 
There are other versions, of which that by the compilers of "Hymns 
Ancient and Modern," beginning, " O Christ, the Heavens' Eternal 
King," is the most familiar. Mr. Caswall's translation, however, excels 
it, both in strength and beauty 




THOU, the heavens' eternal King, 
Lord of the starry spheres ! 

Who with the Father equal art, 
From everlasting years : 



All praise to Thy most holy Name, 
Who, when the world began. 

Yoking the soul with clay, didst form, 
In Thine own image, man. 

And praise to Thee, who, when the foe 
Had marred Thy work sublime, 

Clothing Thyself in flesh, didst mould 
Our race a second time ; 

When from the tomb new-born, as from 
A virgin born before, 



]6 O THOU, THE HEAVENS' ETERNAL KTNGl ' 

Thou, raising us from death with Thee, < 
Didst us in Thee restore. 

Eternal Shepherd ! who Thy flock | 

In Thy pure font dost lave, ' 

Where souls are cleansed, and all their guilt ! 

Buried, as in a grave ; \ 



Jesu, who to the cross wast nailed, 
Our hopeless debt to pay, — 

Jesu, who lavishly didst pour 
Thy blood for us away, — 

Oh, from the wretched death of sin 
Keep us ! so shalt Thou be 

The everlasting Paschal joy 
Of all new-born in Thee. 

To God the Father, with the Son 
Who from the grave arose. 

And Thee, O Paraclete, be praise 
While age on ao:es flows ! 



HELPED BY THE ALMIGHTY'S ARM. 8/ 



l^rlprD lig tje 'lllmtgbts's ^rm, at iLast. 

{Forti tegenie brack i a.) 

From the Paris Breviary. Translated by John David Chambers, 
in " Lauda Syon: Ancient Latin Hymns of the English and other 
Churches." Mr. Chambers was a graduate of Oxford in 1826, and has 
made a number of contributions to devotional literature. 




ELPED by the Almighty's arm, at 
last 
Behold the Red Sea's channel past, 
Where He, with matchless prowess, broke 
The infernal tyrant's hateful yoke. 

Oh ! therefore joyful thanks this day 
Let us to Christ, our Champion, pay ; 
And round the Lamb's own board unite, 
Arrayed in shining robes of white. 

There duly may His sacred flesh 
And hallowed blood our souls refresh ; 
Enkindling there the fire of love. 
That we may live with Him above. 

Henceforth our Passover is Christ ; 
Our Lamb, our Victim sacrificed : 



3 THE ORIENT BEAMS OF EASTER MORN. 

As sprinkled with His blood we stand, 
The angel stays his vengeful hand. 

O worthiest Victim ! born to reign ; 
By whom Death's very self is slain ; 
And, crushed before whose potent sway, 
The gates of hell disgorge their prey ! 

Christ, from the grave's departing gloom, 
To light hath issued from the tomb ; 
Down to the abyss the foe hath driven, 
And oped the sanctuaries of heaven. 



Efje ©rtent Beams of ISaster Horn* 

{Aurora lucis dtim 7iov(e.) 

From the Paris Breviary. Translated by John David Chambers, 
in " Lauda Syon." 



HE orient beams of Easter morn 
The glowing firmament adorn : 
Let earth with joyous plaudits ring, 
The Lamb's victorious triumphs sing. 

He with His Blood — pellucid tide ! — 
This world from sin hath purified ; 



THE ORIENT BEAMS OF EASTER MORN. 89 

The Veil He rends, the Holiest lies 
Revealed unto our ravished eyes ! 

To earth consigned, the noble Grain 
Inert no longer may remain ; 
Scarce dead, behold It blooming fair, 
A rich and wondrous harvest bear ! 

No more shall death the flesh destroy, 
Sown in sure hope of future joy : 
Our God to life the way hath led, 
Who rose, the first-fruits of the dead. 

So on the Cross with Jesus slain, 
With Him revived to life again, 
Shall this frail body rise, to rest 
In His all-glorious image dressed. 



90 THOU, WHO TO SAVE. 




^ijou, SE1)0 to ^abe. 

{Jesii,, Redemptor steculi.) 



A hymn of the Paris Breviary, translated by Rev. Isaac Williams. 
Mr. Williams was born in 1802; graduated at Oxford 1S26; was ordained 
in 1831; held livings at Windrush, Oxford, and Bisley; suffered for 
many years from broken health; and died May i, 1865. He was the 
author of a large number of hymns, original and translated, and of several 
devotional and homiletical works in prose. 



HOU, Who to save 

The world didst die, and then Thy 
breath 

Resume, to vanquish gloomy death, 
And kill the grave ; 



O'er all below 
Night reigns ; our eyes are weighed with 

sleep : 
Oh, from the wiles and watchings keep 

Of the great foe 

May rest, which lays 
Care's lid, and labor's brow doth slake, 
Quicken our hearts, more fresh to wake 

Unto Thy praise ! 



CHRIST WITH MIGHTY TRIUMPH RISES! 9 1 

Oh, be it given 
With Thee to die, on earth to love 
The better things which are above, 

And dwell in Heaven ! 




{Sui-git Christ us aim TropJuco.') 

An Easter Sequence from the Missal of Tournay: sixteenth century. 
Translated by John William Hewett. From " Lyra Myslica." See 
biographical note prefixed to the hymn, " Hail, the Holy Day of Days 1 " 

HRIST with mighty Triumph rises ! 
All the gates of Death surprises ! 
From a Lamb a Lion strong. 
Hell through all its depths is quaking ; 
Earth through all its graves is shaking : 
Raise on high the Victor's song ! 

Hail the Lamb ! adore him greatly, 
Who upon the Cross but lately 

For His helpless Sheep was slain : 
By His Death He brou.ght Salvation, 
To the lost of every nation 

Showed the Way of Life again. 



92 CHRIST WITH MIGHTY TRIUMPH RISES 

He alone His Passion bearing, 
None His mighty Grief was Sharing 

Save repentant Magdalene. 
Tell us, Mary, 'mid thy weeping, 
By the Cross thy station keeping, 

All the woes that thou hast seen. — 

I beheld the Lord's Anointed 
Bear the Stripes to sin appointed, 

Lifted on His Cross to die ; 
Saw the Lord His Thorn-crown wearing, 
Grossest insult meekly bearing. 

Pale His cheek, and sunk His eye. 

Through His Hands the nails were driven, 
By the spear His Side was riven : 

Then He bowed His sacred Head, 
And His Soul to God commended. 
All His bitter Passion ended : 

Lo ! the Lord of Life was dead. — 



Tell us, Mary, all thy doing, | 

Still thy task of love pursuing, ; 

When the Saviour's Soul was fled. — 
By the martyred Mother keeping, ; 

While I soothed, 1 shared her weeping, 

Till unto her home I led : ; 



CHRIST WITH MIGHTY TRIUMPH RISES! 93 

Then, upon the hard earth falh'ng, 
Mourned I. o'er that Scene appalHng, 

Mourned my Saviour's bitter Doom ; 
Then the fragrant spices blending, 
Love's last precious care attending, 

Hied me to the sacred Tomb : 



Search for my Beloved making. 

Him for Whom my heart was breaking, 

All my searching proved in vain : 
Then my Soul was newly troubled, 
All my grief and care was doubled, 

And my tears burst forth again. — 

Weep not, Mary, now unduly ; 
Christ the Lord hath risen truly. 

Broke the seal, and 'scaped the ward. ■ 
Words of comfort ye have spoken ; 
And indeed no single token 

Saw I of the risen Lord : 

Shining Angels told the story, — 
Here is not the Lord of Glory ; 

He is risen, as He said : 
See unwound each linen cerement, 
And yon token of endearment 

Which enwrapped His sacred Head. 



94 ANGELS, TO OUR JUBILEE. 

Yea, indeed, the Lord is risen ! 
Bursting from his narrow Prison ; 

Hope in Him, ye Sons of men ! 
Risen Saviour, leave us never, 
Show us Love and Pity ever ; 

Alleluia ! Lord ! Amen. 



Angels, to ©ur SutJtlee* 

[Adeste, Ccelitiim chori.) 

A hymn of Nicholas Le Tourneaux, a priest of Rouen, in 1686; 
translated by William John Blew. Mr. Blew was born about 1810, and 
graduated at Oxford in 1832. He has held a living at St. John's, near 
Gravesend, Kent. He is the author of a translation of the Agamemnon 
of iEschylus, of a number of hymns and translations from the Latin, and 
of a compact but veiy valuable treatise on " Hymns and Hymn-Books." 

NGELS, to our Jubilee 

Haste, your sweetest songs awak- 
ing : 
Christ amid the dead is free, 

Christ the rocky tomb is breaking. 
Vain the guard around the grave ; 
Vain the rulers' wild endeavor ; 
Vain the seal upon the cave 
Of the nation faithless ever. 




ANGELS, TO OUR JUBILEE. 95 

Fear, away ! no subtle spy- 
Steals that form so sorely stricken : 
He who willed the death to die 

Will with life Himself requicken. 
Offspring of a Virgin's womb, 

Virgin-born He came, in token 
That through Jewry's guarded tomb 

He should rise with seals unbroken. 
Hanging on the inglorious tree. 

Mad with mocking lips they grieve Him, — 
" Let him quit the Cross, and we 

Will the Son of God believe Him." 
From the Cross He came not down, 

Yet He worked a mightier wonder: 
Son of God the Saviour own ; 

Dead, He smites grim death asunder. 
Grant us, Lord, with Thee to die, 

And to rise at Thine uprising ; 
And to set our heart on high. 

Earth and all its joys despising. 



96 JESUS CHRIST IS RISEN TO-DAY. 



{Siirrexit Christits hodie.) 



An anonymous hymn, written about 1750. Contained in " Hymns 
Ancient and Modern." Probably reproduced from a Latin hymn of the 
fifteenth century. 




ESUS Christ is risen to-day, Alleluia ! 
Our triumphant holy day, Alleluia ! 
Who did once, upon the cross, Alle- 
luia ! 
Suffer to redeem our loss. Alleluia ! 

Hymns of praise then let us sing, Alleluia ! 
Unto Christ, our heavenly King, Alleluia ! 
Who endured the Cross and Grave, Alleluia ! 
Sinners to redeem and save, Alleluia ! 

But the pain which He endured, Alleluia ! 
Our Salvation hath procured. Alleluia ! 
Now above the sky He's King, Alleluia ! 
Where the angels ever sing. Alleluia ! 

Amen. 



irom tijc Kiissian. 



THE GOLDEN PALACE OF MY GOD. 99 



E|)c ffialtirn palace of mg ffiotr. 

By Semen Sergejewitsch Bobroff, the date of whose birth is un- 
known. He was an assessor of colleges, was educated at the University 
of Moscow, and began his career as a poet in 1784. In 1803 he pub- 
lished " The Chersonese, or a Summer's Day on the Tauric Peninsula;" 
in 1804, " Daybreak of the North," lyrical poems in four parts; in 1807, 
" The Ancient Night of the Universe, or the Blind Wanderer," a poem in 
four volumes. He died in 1810. He had a fiery imagination, and a fund 
of feeling, but was not always felicitous in expression, and his sublimity 
sometimes verges upon bombast. He was more familiar with English 
literature than any other Russian writer. The following hymn is sung in 
the Russian churches at midnight a week before Easter. The transla- 
tion is by Sir John Bowring. 




HE golden Palace of my God 

Towering above the clouds I see, 
Beyond the Cherubs' bright abode, 
Higher than angels' thoughts can be. 
How can I in those Courts appear 
Without a wedding-garment on .-' 
Conduct me, thou Life-Giver, there, — 
Conduct me to Thy glorious throne ! 
And clothe me with Thy robes of light, 
And lead me through Sin's darksome night. 
My Saviour and my God ! 



100 WHY, THOU NEVER-SETTING LIGHT. 



Smijs, Cjjou IxTeber^Setttng ILtgit 



Also by BoEROFF, translated by Bovvking. See note to the preceding. 
This also is a midnight hymn, and is sung in the Russian churches at 
Easter. 




jjHY, thou Never-Setting Light, 

Is thy brightness veiled from me } 
Why does this unusual night 
Cloud thy blest benignity .'' 
I am lost without thy ray : 

Guide my wandering footsteps, Lord ! 
Light my dark and erring way 
To the noontide of thy word ! 



JTrom tl)e Danbl), 




ARISE, MY SOUL! AWAKE FROM SLEEP ! IO3 



^rise, mtJ ^oull atoafee from ^Icrp! 

By Thomas Kingo, who was born in Slangcrup in 1634; was ap- 
pointed curate of Kirke-Helsinge in 1662, and priest at Slangcrup in i568, 
was made Bishop of Funen in 1677; and died in 1703. He was the author 
of over two hundred quaint psalms and hymns, and was much beloved by 
his countrymen. He has been called the Dr. Watts of Denmark. The 
translator of this hymn and the two followmg IS Mr. Gilbert Tait, They 
are to be found in his collection of " The Hymns of Denmark." 

RISE, my soul ! awake from sleep ! 
Behold thy Saviour's grave ! 
His loved ones, mourning, laid Him 
deep 
In Death's devouring cave ; 
But from the tomb He valiant came, 
And ever blessed be His name ! 

A cheering sound, an angel's voice, 

Proclaimeth from on high, 
Our brother, Jesus, — oh, rejoice! — 

Could not Death's captive lie ; 
But from the tomb He valiant came, 
And ever blessed be His name ! 

O sacred day, sublimest day ! 

O mystery unheard ! 
Death's hosts, that claimed Him as their prey, 

He scattered with a word •, 



I04 ARISE, MY SOUL! AWAKE FROM SLEEP! 

And from the tomb He valiant came, 
And ever blessed be His name ! 

holy, holy Paschal morn ! 

We triumphed have through thee : 
Thou sweetenest Christ's torture, borne 

Upon the fatal tree ; 
For from the tomb He valiant came, 
And ever blessed be His name ! 

1 boldly now defy thee. Death ! 

For thou hast lost thy sting ; 
Defy, O Hell ! thy blasting breath, 

All terrors thou canst bring ; 
For from the tomb He valiant came. 
And ever blessed be His name ! 

The grave is dark, the grave is cold. 

And I must slumber there ; 
But, risen, I shall Christ behold, 

Christ's glories I shall share ; 
For from the tomb He valiant came, 
And ever blessed be His name ! 

That I a welcome warm may win 

From Jesus in the skies. 
From the foul sepulchre of sin 

May I as valiant rise 
As from the tomb the Saviour came : 
And ever blessed be His name ! 



CHRIST, ON THE SABBATH MORN. IO5 



Jfrom ©catf), Cf}rtst, on tj)c .Satibatfj 
Jlorn. 

By NicoLAl Frkderik Severin Grundtvic, born at Udby, South 
Zealand, Sept 8, 1783. He studied classics and theology at Aarhuus, and 
became deeply interested in Icelandic literature. For several years he 
taught in Langeland, and wrote essays on the Edda, &c. In 1808 he 
published a polemic poem lashing the frivolity of the people of Copenhagen, 
also a work on Northern mythology. About this time his mind, always 
devout, became deeply and passionately religious, and he devoted himself 
unreservedly to the work of moral and religious reform. His " Probation 
Sermon " threw the clergy of Copenhagen into an uproar, and called down 
upon him their formal censure. In 1813, after a period of rest necessitated 
by illness and nervous excitement, he returned to Copenhagen , and preached 
conversion and faith to his countrymen; and in 1814, when the Allied 
Army overran Holstein, he renewed his patriotic and religious appeals. 
His earnestness provoked frequent attacks from the rationalistic clergy-, 
who prevented his preferment. In 1822-26 he was resident chaplain 
of Our Saviour's Church at Christianshavn ; and in 1839 was appointed 
clergyman of the Church of the Holy Ghost, Copenhagen. He was an 
indefaugable literary worker, and undertook laborious translations from 
Icelandic and Anglo-Saxon literature His collection of psalms and 
hymns was published in 1841. Howitt likens him to John the Baptist 
crying ui the wilderness, and characterizes him as " one of the giants of 
the North, burning with religious zeal." Miss Bremer placed him fore- 
most among Danish bards and seers, and said of his hymns, that they 
gave new life to the church music of Denmark. The following is from 
Mr. Tait's " Hymns of Denmark." 

fROM death, Christ, on the Sabbath 
morn, 
A conqueror arose ; 
And, when each Sabbath dawn is born, 

For death a healing grows. 
This day proclaims an ended strife, 
And Christ's beniirn and liolv life. 




I06 CHRISTIANS, LET US JOYFUL BE! 

By countless lips the wondrous tale 
Is told throughout the earth : 

Ye that have ears to hear, oh, hail 
That tale with sacred mirth ! 

Awake, my soul ! rise from the dead ! 

See life's grand light around thee shed ! 

Death trembles each sweet Sabbath hour : 
Death's brother, Darkness, quakes : 

Christ's word speaks with divinest power ; 
Christ's truth its silence breaks : 

They vanquish with their valiant breath 

The reiern of Darkness and of Death. 



© Cjirtsttans, let us Sogful tie! 

By Ramus, who is represented by several hymns in Mr. 

Tail's " Hymns of Denmark." The editor has made careful search in 
English and French histories of Danish Literature, and in various bio- 
graphical dictionaries, but finds no mention of this author, whose place is 
doubtless among the minor sacred poets of Denmark. 

CHRISTIANS, let us joyful be ! 

How sweet, how holy is this day ! 
Behold Him free, and boldly free, — 
Our Saviour, Christ, death's grandest prey ! 
He burst the fetters of the tomb. 
And rose in triumph from the gloom. 




O CHRISTIANS, LET US JOYFUL BE! 10/ 

For sin a bitter lot He chose ; 

The Cross's pangs He willing bore ; 
First-fruits of them that slept, He rose ; 

And we shall rise, to sleep no more. 
Oh, comfort for each contrite soul. 
To see away death's terrors roll ! 

To Thee, O loving God ! we pray : 
May in our heart Thy Spirit dwell : 

Oh, lead us in salvation's way ; 
Teach us to feel that all is well ; 

And, when our earthly course is run, 

Give us the kingdom Jesus won ! 



JTrom tl)e CScrman. 



THERE WENT THREE DAMSELS. I I I 




Ef)fre '^txiX Efjrce ©amisrls ere Breali 
of ©ag. 

This quaint ballad was a favorite with devout Germans of the four- 
teenth century. The name of the author is not known. The translation is 
by C.\THERINE Wink WORTH, who was born about 1825; and died July, 
1878. English readers are indebted to her for many admirable transla- 
tions of German hymns contained in her two series of " Lyra Germanica," 
and her history of " The Christian Singers of Germany." 

HERE went three damsels ere break 
of day : 
To the Holy Grave they took their 
way ; 
They fain would anoint the Lord once more, 
As Mary Magdalene did before. Alleluia ! 

The damsels each to other made moan, — 
"Who will roll us away the stone. 
That we may enter in amain 
To anoint the Lord as we are fain ? " 

Full precious spices and salve they brought ; 
But, when they came to the spot they sought, 
Behold, the grave doth open stand ! 
An ancrel sitteth on either hand ! 



i 

1 1 2 THERE WENT THREE DAMSELS. \ 

•J 

"Ye maidens, be not filled with fear : ] 

He whom ye seek, He is not here: ~| 
Behold, the raiment white and fair, 

Which the Lord was wrapped in, lieth there. ; 

" Ye maidens, do not here delay : * 

Ye must to Galilee away ; i 

To Galilee ye now must go, < 

For there the Lord Himself will show." ; 

\ 

But Mary Magdalene could not depart : \ 

Seeking the Lord, she wept apart. ; 

What saw she in a little while .'' . ; 
She saw our Lord upon her smile. 

In garb and wise He met her there 

As were He a gardener, and did bear ; 

A spade within His holy hand. 

As would He dig the garden land. • 

" Oh ! tell me, gentle Gardener thou, \ 

Where hast thou laid my Master now .'' i 

Where thou hast hidden Him, bid me know, I 
Or my heart must break beneath its woe." 

Scarce could He speak a single word, •] 

Ere she beheld it was the Lord : j 

She kneeleth down on the cold bare stone ; | 

She hath found her Lord, and she alone. j 



REJOICE, DEAR CIIR/STEiVDOM, TO-DAY. II3 

"Touch me not, Mary Magdalene, 
But tell the brethren what thou hast seen : 
Touch me not now with human hand, 
Until I ascend to my Father's land." 

Alleluia ! 



iiXfjotce, iSear ^(jristentiom, ^o^tiau. 

Tliis hymn belongs in the same period as the preceding, but is an 
expansion of an earlier Easter sequence. Miss Winkworth is the 
translator. 

EJOICE, dear Christendom, to-day; 
For Christ hath overcome : 
His bitter pains have passed away, 
And empty stands His tomb; 
Those bitter pains had been our lot, 
If Christ for us had borne them not. 
Great bliss hath risen on us to-day : 

Alleluia ! 

O Easter Day, our voices ne'er 

Can praise thee fittingly; 
Since God, whose power all things declare, 

Such glory puts on thee : 

But let us keep thee as we can. 

Angels to-day rejoice with man, 
When rose that Sun so wondrous fair : 

Alleluia ! 




114 ■SO HOL Y IS THIS DA V OF DA YS. 

O Jesus Christ, our blessed Lord, 

We share Thy joy to-day! 
All those who hear and keep Thy Word 

Are glad with Thee to-day ! 

All Christian people now rejoice 

With freshened hearts and gladsome voice. 
Glory to Thee, our Blessed Lord : 

Alleluia ! 

Praise to the Father and the Son, 

And to the Holy Ghost : 
For all the sins that we have done, 

To-day forgive us most ; 

And give us peace and unity, 

From now to all eternity, 
So sing we as the ages run : 

Alleluia ! 



^0 l^ols is t()ts ©as of ©ags. 

This sequence is found about the same date as the preceding; and, in 
the old manuscripts which contain it, it is called " The Common Man's 
Processional." The translation is by Miss Winkvvorth. 



O holy is this day of days. 

No man can fill its meed of praise. 
^ Since the Holy Son of God 




FAIR SPRING, TIIOL' DEAREST SEASON I I 5 

Now hath conquered Death and Hell, 
And bound the Devil who there doth dwell, 

So hath the Lord delivered Christendom ; 

This was Christ himself : 

Kyrie Eleison ! 



JFair Spring, tjjou Dearest .Season of 
tje gear. 

By Conrad von Queinfurt, who died in Silesia in 1382. Miss Wink- 
"WOKTH, who translates it, observes that it is quite in the style of the Minne- 
singers, both in thought and the carefully varied metre. 



1213 



AIR Spring, thou dearest season of 
the year, 
Thou art brimful of sweet delights : 
The creatures robbed of joy by winter drear 
Thou dost repay for cold and gloomy nights. 
I feel thy airs are soft and mild ; 
Thy winds are balmy, and not wild: 
Oh, how unlike the wintry blast ! 
What Frost had bound in fetters fast 
Now feels the prison-time gone by ; 

For 'tis unbound and free : 
Whether it climb or swim or fly. 

Whatever kind it be, 
Whether of water, earth, or sky, 
'Tis happy now we see. 



I l6 FAIR SPRING, THOU DEAREST SEASON. 

The sun smiles with his lovely rays ; 
And sing, dear little birds, sing out your 
Maker's praise ! 

So many joys hath Spring; but most of all 

She hath one day above the rest, 
That Christendom with one glad voice doth 
call 
Of all bright days the first and best. 
We hail thee, then, O chosen Day, 
With many a loud and gladsome lay. 
Thou art the day that God hath made : 
Well may our joy be now displayed ! 
Thou art the Pascha to the Greek ; 

And stHl we hear the Jew 
Of thee as Passover doth speak ; 

And Latins know thee too 
As Transitus, that crowns the Holy 
Week: 
But thou, where'er is heard the German 

tongue. 
Art holy Easter-tide, when life from Death 
hath sprung. 

We hail thee, blessed Day, we greet thee well, 

We praise thee ever, we adore 
The Christ who triumphed over death and 
hell, 

Whose death slew Death forevermore. 



FA/K SFKIiVG, THOU DEAREST SEASON. 11/ 

O sweetest day, that saw'st Thee rise, 
Our Paschal Lamb, our Sacrifice ! 
Our Brother, who hast won for us 
A heritage most glorious ! 
Forest and foliage, corn and grass and 
flowers, 
Would show their love to Thee ! 
The birds sing in the greening bowers : 

Christ, they are praising Thee ! 
Thou wouldst not lack, had they our powers, 
A song more worthy Thee ! 
For Thou art Conqueror, O Christ, to-day. 
Who madest Death's great power itself give 
way ! 

So, Christians, triumph as your heart desires ; 

In chorus sweet and clear and strong. 
Ye laymen in the church, ye priests in choirs, 
Answer each other in your song. 

Sing, " Christ the Lord is risen again ; 
Christ hath broken every chain." 
The year of jubilee He bringeth in. 
True freedom for all faithful hearts to 
win : 
So to the table go thou solemnly, 

Where in His flesh and blood 
The Paschal Lamb itself is ofiFered thee, — 
The Lamb slain on the rood. 



Il8 CHRIST THE LORD IS RISEN AGAIN! 

Praise the true Christ with happy hearts 
and free ; 
Praise Him, for He is good ! 
Thus, Spring, thou well may'st speak of joy to 

man : 
Thou hast the Easter Day that ended Death's 
dark ban. 



Cfjrtst tfje 3Lorti is ^\%t\^ ^gatn! 

An Easter hymn of the Bohemian Brethren in the fifteenth century. 
Translated into German by Michael Weiss (died in 1540) ; and into 
English by Catherine WinivWORTH, in the second series of " Lyra Ger- 
manica." The Bohemian Brethren, according to Miss Winkworth (see 
" The Christian Singers of Germany"), were the remains of an ancient 
Slavonic Christianity, originating in the teaching of two Greek monks in 
the ninth century, and existing in Bohemia before the Papal authority and 
Roman liturgy found their way thither. They were among the first to 
hail the Reformation, and as early as 1522 offered Luther their co-opera- 
tion. Their overtures, at first declined, were afterward accepted. They 
generally joined the Zwinglians, merging in that body, and thus disap- 
pearing from history, unless the United Brethren, or Moravians, may be 
regarded as an offshoot from them. Michael Weiss was born at Neisse, 
in Silesia. He was pastor of German-speaking congregations of Lands- 
kron and Fulnek, and for their benefit translated into German some of the 
finest Bohemian hymns, adding some of his own. His hymn-book was 
greatly admired by Luther, and passed through numerous editions in 
Germany and Holland. 

HRIST the Lord is risen again ! 

Christ hath broken every chain ! 

Hark ! the angels shout for joy, 

Singing evermore on high, — 

Hallelujah ! 




CHRIST THE LORD IS RISEN AGAIN! II9 

He who gave for us His life, 
Who for us endured the strife, 
Is our Paschal Lamb to-day ! 
We, too, sing for joy, and say, — 
Hallelujah ! 

He who bore all pain and loss 
Comfortless upon the cross 
Lives in glory now on high, 
Pleads for us, and hears our cry, — 
Hallelujah ! 

He whose path no records tell. 
Who descended into hell. 
Who the strong man armed hath bound. 
Now in the highest heaven is crowned : 
Hallelujah ! 

He who slumbered in the grave 
Is exalted now to save : 
Now through Christendom it rings 
That the Lamb is King of kings : 
Hallelujah ! 

Now He bids us tell abroad 
How the lost may be restored ; 
How the penitent forgiven ; 
How we, too, may enter heaven : 
Hallelujah ! 



I20 IN THE BONDS OF DEATH HE LAY. 

Thou, our Paschal Lamb indeed, 
Christ, to-day Thy people feed ; 
Take our sins and guilt away : 
Let us sing by night and day, — 
Hallelujah ! 



En t{)e Bontrs of ©eatfj ^e lag. 

By Dr. Martin Luther, the great Reformer. He was born at 
Eisleben, Nov. lo, 1483; received his early education at Magdeburg, and 
Eisenach, where his progress was impeded by the poverty of his parents; 
entered the University of Erfurth in 1501, and graduated as Doctor of 
Philosophy with high honor. At the age of twenty-two he entered the 
Monastery of St. Augustine at Erfurth. In 1508 he became Professor 
of Philosophy in Wittenberg; and was soon afterward made Bachelor of 
Divinity, and appointed Chaplain to the Council of Wittenberg. During 
these years he had been passing through strong spiritual conflicts ; and 
his close study of the Scriptures as a whole had given him new views of 
life and duty, and inspired his preaching with earnestness and power. 
His visit to Rome, with its revelation of the abuses of the Papacy; his 
encoimter with Tetzel's doctrine of indulgences; his burning of the Papal 
bull in 1520; his summons to the Diet at Worms; his final rejection of 
monasticism in 1524, and marriage in 1525; and the wonderful work 
which he accomplished in establishing and extending the Protestant 
movement, by tongue and pen, by hymn and treatise, and translation of 
the Scriptures, — are matters too familiar to require recapitulation. His 
later years were years of comparative quiet, but of unceasing activity; 
and his death, on Feb. 18, 1546, was serene and jubilant. The following 
is based upon a Latin hymn of the fifteenth century: the translation into 
English is by Miss Catherine Winkworth. 

N the bonds of Death He lay 

Who for our offence was slain : 
But the Lord is risen to-day ; 
Christ hath brousfht us life again. 




IN THE BONDS OF DEATH HE LAY. 121 

Wherefore let us all rejoice, 
Singing loud with cheerful voice, — 
Hallelujah! 

Of the sons of men was none 

Who could break the bonds of Death : 
Sin this mischief dire had done ; 

Innocent was none on earth : 
Wherefore Death grew strong and bold, 
Would all men in his prison hold : 
Hallelujah ! 

Jesus Christ, God's only Son, 

Came at last our foe to smite ; 
All our sins away hath done. 

Done away Death's power and right. 
Only the form of Death is left ; 
Of his sting he is bereft : 

Hallelujah ! 

That was a wondrous war, I trow, 

When Life and Death together fought : 

But Life hath triumphed o'er his foe ; 
Death is mocked, and set at nought ; 

'Tis even as the Scripture saith, — 

Christ through death has conquered Death : 
Hallelujah ! 



122 IN THE BONDS OF DEATH HE LAY. 

The rightful Paschal Lamb is He, 
On whom alone we all must live, 

Who to death upon the tree 

Himself in wondrous love did give. 

Faith strikes His blood upon the door ; 

Death sees, and dares not harm us more 
Hallelujah ! 

Let us keep high festival 

On this most blessed day of days, 
When God His mercy showed to all ! 

Our Sun is risen with brightest rays, 
And our dark hearts rejoice to see 
Sin and night before Him flee : 
Hallelujah ! 

To the Supper of the Lord 
Gladly will we come to-day : 

The word of peace is now restored. 
The old leaven is put away. 

Christ will be our food alone ; 

Faith no life but His doth own : 
Hallelujah ! 



ERE DA WN HAS FILLED THE SKIES. I 23 



3Ere get tije ©aiwn ijas ftlleti tfje .SlitfS, 



By JoHANN Heerman, translated by Miss Winkworth. Heerman 
was born at Ranten, in Silesia, in 1585; and became early distinguished 
as a scholar, and a writer of Latin verses. He received the living of 
Koben, and retained it during ttie terrible suffering and devastation which 
the Thirty Years' War entailed upon Silesia. He was often in danger of 
his life from the Jesuits, and was several times compelled to flee; but in 
the midst of these troubled and tempestuous times he wrote and published 
three volumes of hymns, distinguished for earnestness, tenderness, and 
fervor. A large number of them have found a permanent place in Ger- 
man hymnolog)', and several have been translated into English. Worn 
out with conflict and sorrow, Heerman died in 1647. 



jRE yet the dawn has filled the skies, 
Behold my Saviour Christ arise ! 
He chaseth from us sin and night, 
And brings us joy and life and light : 
Hallelujah ! Hallelujah ! 

stronger Thou than Death and Hell ! 
Where is the foe thou canst not quell ? 
What heavy stone Thou canst not roll 
From off the prisoned, anguished soul } 

Hallelujah ! Hallelujah ! 

If Jesus lives, can I be sad .'' 

1 know he loves me, and am glad •' 




1 24 ERE DA WN HAS FILLED THE SKIES. 

Though all the world were dead to me, 
Enough, O Christ, if I have Thee ! 
Hallelujah ! Hallelujah ! 

He feeds me, comforts and defends. 
And, when I die, His angel sends 
To bear me whither He is gone ; 
For of His own He loseth none : 
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! 

No more to fear or grief I bow : 
God and the angels love me now : 
The joys prepared for me to-day 
Drive fear and mourning far away : 
Hallelujah ! Hallelujah ! 

Strong Champion ! For this comfort see 
The whole world brings her thanks to Thee ; 
And once we, too, shall raise above 
More sweet and loud the song of love : 
Hallelujah ! Hallelujah ! 



O DARKEST WOE! 1 25 



© ©arfeest Moe! 



By JoHANN VON RiST, bom near Hamburg in 1607; died in 1667. 
His father was a clergyman, and he was destined from the first for the 
study of theology. He was distinguished in his youth by precocious and 
varied talent; and when he returned to Hamburg, after study in the uni- 
versities, and travel abroad, he had already acquired a reputation as a 
great scholar and poet. He was at once appointed to a church just out- 
side Hamburg, and there spent the remainder of his life. He was an ac- 
tive pastor and a great preacher, a very strict Lutheran in doctrine, but 
more given to preaching against sin than against heresy. He published 
no less than ten collections of religious poems and hymns, containing be- 
tween si.\ hundred and seven hundred pieces. Many are of indifferent 
merit, but some belong to the first rank of hymns. He was crowned 
poet-laureate by the Emperor, and received a patent of nobility. Some 
of his contemporaries praised him as the Northern Apollo; and his hymns 
were eagerly caught up, and quickly adopted for congregational use in 
evangelical Germany. Even among Roman Catholics they were read 
with delight. The hymn which follows was written for Easter Eve. The 
translation is by Miss Winkworth. 



DARKEST woe ! 

Ye tears, forth flow ! 

Has earth so sad a wonder ? 
God the Father's only Son 

Now Hes buried yonder. 



O son of man ! 

It was the ban 
Of death on thee that brought Him 

Down to suffer for thy sins, 
And such woe hath wrought Him. 




126 DARKEST WOE! 

Behold, thy Lord, 

The Lamb of God, 
Blood-sprinkled lies before thee. 
Pouring out His life, that He 
May to life restore thee ! 

O ground of faith, 

Laid low in death ! 
Sweet lips now silent sleeping ! 

Surely all that live must mourn 
Here with bitter weeping. 

Yea, blest is he 
Whose heart shall be 

Fixed here ; who apprehendeth 
Why the Lord of Glory thus 

To the grave descendeth. 

O Jesu blest, 

My help and rest ! 
With tears I pray, Lord, hear me : 
Make me love Thee to the last, 
And in death be near me. 



JESUS MY REDEEMER LIVES. 1 27 



3esus mg lElcUeemer libejs* 



By Louisa Henrietta, wife of the Elector of Brandenburg, bom in 
1628; died iu 1677. She Uved in a stormy and tragic time; but her char- 
acter is one of the noblest examples of Christian womanhood that history 
presents. She was her husband's adviser in affairs o( state, fostered agri- 
culture by wise measures, founded primary schools all over the coimtry, 
and won the love of her people by many acts of public and private charity. 
Many sweet and thoughtful hymns attest the depth and earnestness of her 
religious nature. That which follows ranks to this day among the most 
popular of German hymns. The translation is by Miss VVinkworth. 
There is another translation, by Mrs. Charles, beginning, "Jesus, my 
eternal trust and my Saviour, ever liveth." 



ESUS my Redeemer lives, 

Christ my trust is dead no more : 
In the strength this knowledge gives, 
Shall not all my fears be o'er, — 
Calm, though death's long night be 

fraught 
Still with many an anxious thought .'' 

Jesus my Redeemer lives, 

And His life I once shall see : 

Bright the hope this promise gives, — 
Where He is, I too shall be. 

Shall I fear, then } Can the Head 

Rise, and leave the members dead ? 




128 yESUS MY REDEEMER LIVES. 

Close to Him my soul is bound, 
In the bonds of Hope inclasped ; 

Faith's strong hand this hold hath found, 
And the Rock hath firmly grasped. 

Death shall ne'er my soul remove 

From her refuge in Thy love. 

I shall see Him with these eyes, — 
Him whom I shall surely know; 

Not another shall I rise : 

With His love this heart shall glow ; 

Only there shall disappear 

Weakness in and round me here. 

Ye who suffer, sigh, and moan, 

Fresh and glorious there shall reign : 

Earthly here the seed is sown, 
Heavenly it shall rise again ; 

Natural here the death we die, 

Spiritual our life on high. 

Body, be thou of good cheer. 
In thy Saviour's care rejoice; 

Give not place to gloom and fear : 
Dead, thou yet shalt know His voice. 

When the final trump is heard. 

And the deaf, cold grave is stirred. 



so REST, MY REST. 1 29 

Laugh to scorn, then, death and hell ; 

Laugh to scorn the gloomy grave : 
Caught into the air to dwell 

With the Lord who comes to save, 
We shall trample on our foes. 
Mortal weakness, fear, and woes. 

Only see ye that your heart 

Rise betimes from earthly lust : 

Would ye there with Him have part, 
Here obey your Lord, and trust ; 

Fix your hearts beyond the skies, 

Whither ye yourselves would rise. 



So Erst, mg lacst. 



By SoLOMOM Frank. Born at Weimar March 6, 1659: died June 
II, 1725. He was the author of three hundred hymns, of which the fol- 
lowing — one of seven Passion Hymns — is among the best. There is 
another translation, by Miss Winkworth, in '' Lyra Germanica." 



O rest, my Rest, 
Forever blest. 

Thy grave with sinners making ; 
By Thy precious death from sin 
My dead soul awaking ! 




I30 so REST, MY REST. 

Here hast Thou lain, 

After much pain, 
Life of my life, reposing : 
Round Thee now a rock-hewn grave, 
Rock of ages, closing. 

Breath of all breath, 
I know, from death. 
Thou wilt my dust awaken : 
Wherefore should I dread the grave, 
Or my faith be shaken ? 

To me the tomb 

Is but a room 
Where I lie down on roses : 
Who by death hath conquered death, 
Sweetly there reposes. 

The body dies 
(Nought else), and lies 
In dust, until victorious 
From the grave it shall arise. 
Beautiful and glorious. 

Meantime I will, 

My Jesus, still 
Deep in my bosom lay Thee, 
Musing on Thy death : in death 
Be with me, I pray Thee. 



O RISEN LORD! O CONQUERING KING! l^l 



© Etscn ilorti! © Conquering l^ing 



By Dr. Justus H. P.oehmer, a celebrated jurist, who was born at 
Hanover in 1674, and died at Halle in 1749. The translation is by Miss 
Catherine Winkworth, and is contained in the second series of the 
'' Lyra Germanica." 




RISEN Lord! O conquering King! 

O Life of all that live ! 
To-day that peace of Easter bring 
Which only Thou canst give. 
Once Death, our foe, 
Had laid Thee low : 
Now hast Thou rent his bonds in twain ; 
Now art Thou risen Who once was slain. 

The power of Thy great majesty 
liursts rocks and tombs away ; 
The victory raises us with Thee 
Into the glorious day : 

Now Satan's might 
And death's dark night 
Have lost their power this blessed morn, 
And we to higher life are born. 

Oh that our hearts might inly know 
Thy victory over death, 



132 O RISEN LORD! O CONQUERING KING! 

And, gazing on Thy conflict, glow 
With eager, dauntless faith ! 

Thy quenchless light. 

Thy glorious might. 
Still comfortless and lonely leave 
The soul that cannot yet believe. 

Then break through our hard hearts Thy 
way, 
O Jesus, conquering King ! 
Kindle the lamp of faith to-day ; 
Teach our faint hearts to sing 
For joy at length, 
That in Thy strength 
We too may rise, whom sin had slain, 
And Thine eternal rest attain. 

And, when our tears for sin o'erflow, 

Do Thou in love draw near. 
The precious gift of peace bestow. 
Shine on us bright and clear ; 
That so may we, 
O Christ, from Thee 
Drink in the life that cannot die, 
And keep true Easter feasts on high. 

Yes, let us truly know within 
Thy rising from the dead ; 



O GL OR 10 US HEAD, TIIO U LI VEST NOW! 1 3 3 

And quit the grave of death and sin ; 
And keep that gift, our Head, 

That Thou didst leave 

For all who cleave 
To Thee through all this earthly strife : 
So shall we enter into life. 



© S^lorious Heat!, Efjou Ubest nobj! 



By Gerhard Tersteegen, born at Mors in Westphalia in 1697; 
died in 1769. He was the son of a tradesman, and, when a young man, 
supported himself for some years by weaving silk; leading meanwhile a 
life of meditation, and of almost entire seclusion from the world. Possess- 
ing a nature of singular spirituality and great benevolence, he was early 
led to undertake a kind of informal ministry, — laboring among the poor, 
addressing religious meetings, and publishing many hymns and devotional 
books. His health was always delicate, and he suffered many privations; 
but his life was long and useful, and he was greatly beloved He was a 
mystic of the purest type, and never connected himself with any religious 
sect. The following translation is by Catherine Winkworth. 



GLORIOUS Head, Thou livest now ! 
Let us Thy members share Thy life. 
Canst Thou behold their need, nor bow 
To raise Thy children from the strife 
With self and sin, with death and dark 

distress. 
That they may live to Thee in holiness .'' 




134 O GLORIOUS HEAD, THOU LIVEST NOW! 

Earth knows Thee not ; but evermore 
Thou Hvest in Paradise, in peace : 

Thither my soul would also soar ; 
Let me from all the creatures cease : 

Dead to the world, but to Thy Spirit known, 

I live to Thee, O Prince of life, alone ! 

Break through my bonds, whate'er it cost ; 

What is not Thine within me slay ; 
Give me the lot I covet most, — 

To rise as Thou hast risen to-day. 
Nought can I do ; a slave to death I pine : 
Work Thou in me, O Power and Life Divine ! 

Work Thou in me, and heavenward guide 
My thoughts and wishes, that my heart 

Waver no more, nor turn aside, 
But fix forever where Thou art : 

Thou art not far from us : who love Thee well. 

While yet on earth, in heaven with Thee may 
dwell. 



yESUS LIVES: NO LONGER NOW. 1 35 




Jesus Htbcs: no longer nob. 



By Christian Furchtegott Gellert, bom in 1715, in Saxony; 
died in 1769. His father was a poet and a minister; and the son inherited 
from him a devout, religious nature, and rare poetical gifts. He taught 
and lectured upon Poetry and Eloquence, and is regarded as the head of 
a new didactic school of German hymn-writers. The translation is by 
I KANCES Elizabeth Cox, who, next to Miss Winkworth, is the most 
successful translator of German hymns. 



ESUS lives : no longer now 

Can thy terrors, Death, appall me. 
Jesus lives : by this I know, 
From the grave He will recall me. 
Brighter scenes at death commence : 
This shall be my confidence. 

Jesus lives ! to Him the throne 

High o'er heaven and earth is given : 

I may go where He is gone. 

Live and reign with Him in Heaven. 

God through Christ forgives offence : 

This shall be my confidence. 

Jesus lives ! Who now despairs 

Spurns the Word which God hath spoken : 



136 JESUS LIVES: NO LONGER NOW. ■ 

Grace to all that Word declares, 

Grace whereby sin's yoke is broken. 
Christ rejects not penitence : 
This shall be my confidence. 

Jesus lives ! for me He died : 
Hence will I, to Jesus living, 

Pure in heart and act abide. 

Praise to Him, and glory, giving. 

Freely God doth aid dispense : 

This shall be my confidence. 

Jesus lives ! my heart knows well. 

Nought from me His Love shall sever; 

Life, nor death, nor powers of hell, 
Part me now from Christ forever. 

God will be a sure Defence : 

This shall be my confidence. 

Jesus lives ! henceforth is death 
Entrance-gate of life immortal : 

This shall calm my trembling breath 
When I pass its gloomy portal. 

Faith shall cry, as fails each sense, — 

Lord, Thou art my Confidence. 



RISE AGAIN! VES, RISE AGAIN. 13/ 



?^\U asatn! ges, rise nrjain b3tlt tf)ou. 



By Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock, born at Quedlinburg in 1724; 
died in 1803 His is one of the greatest names in German literature. 
When a boy, he solemnly resolved that he would produce some great work 
that should do his country honor; and as early as the age of twenty-one 
he conceived the idea of his great epic, the " Messiah." In 1748, through 
solicitation of some friends, who by accident discovered the manuscript, 
the first three cantos of the " Messiah " were published; and these, with 
some odes printed at the same time, made him instantly famous through- 
out Germany. Seven cantos more were published before 1754; but domes- 
tic affliction interfered with the work, and for nine or ten years he pub- 
lished only minor religious poems. In 1773 the "Messiah" was at 
last completed, and in the same year a complete edition of his odes and 
lyrics was brought out. Klopstock was an ardent patriot, and a profound 
scholar; and the reverence paid to him in Germany was not unlike that 
enjoyed by Dr. Johnson in England. His character was singularly pure 
and amiable, and his bearing was marked by courtliness and dignity. 
His " Messiah " is a daring and sublime production, embracing an infinite 
variety of spectators and actors, and having its scene laid sometimes in 
the highest heaven. He wrote several scriptural dramas, and many odes, 
hymns, and lyrics. The following hymn is very commonly used at funer- 
als or at Easter services. The translation is by Miss Winkworth. 
There is a more literal version by Alfred Baskerville, " Arise, yes, j'es, 
arise again, O thou my dust ! " 



ISE again ! yes, rise again wilt thou, 
My dust, though buried now ! 
To life immortal 
Is this brief rest the portal : 
Hallelujah ! 




138 RISE AGAIN! YES, RISE AGAIN. 

For the seed is sown, again to bloom, 
Whene'er the Lord shall come. 

His harvest reaping 
In us who now are sleeping : 
Hallelujah.' 

Day of praise, of joyful tears the Day, — 
Thou of my God the Day, — 

When I shall number 
My destined years of slumber, 
Thou wakenest me ! 

Then shall we be like to those that dream. 
When on us breaks the beam 

Of that blest morrow : 
The weary pilgrim's sorrow 
Is then no more. 

Then the Saviour leads us, of His grace, 
Into the Holiest Place, 

Where we forever 
Shall praise His name who doth deliver ! 
Hallelujah ! 



HALLELUJAH! JESUS LIVES'. 1 39 




Halleluja!) I %tm% libcs t 



By Christian Garve, who was born at Breslau, Jan. 7, 1742 ; studied 
at Frankfort and Halle; in 1769 succeeded Gellerl as Professor of Philos- 
ophy at Leipsic; and died Dec. i, 1798. He was a man of amiable man- 
ners, and of good repute as a philosophical writer. From his very death- 
bed he dictated an essay on Patience. The translation which follows is 
by the compilers of " Hymns from the Land of Luther." These admira- 
ble volumes are the joint work of two sisters, JNIiss Jane Borthwick and 
Mrs. Eric Findlater, who are descendants from an old Scottish family. 



jALLELUJAH ! Jesus lives ! 
He is now the Living One. 
From the gloomy house of death 
Forth the Conqueror has gone, 
Bright forerunner to the skies 
Of His people yet to rise. 

Jesus lives ! let all rejoice ! 

Praise Him, ransomed ones of earth ; 
Praise Him, in a nobler song, 

Cherubim of heavenly birth ; 
Praise the Victor King, whose sway 
Sin and death and hell obey. 

Jesus lives ! why weepest thou .'' 
Why that sad and frequent sigh ? 



140 HALLELUJAH! JESUS LLVES ! 

. He who died our Brother here 

Lives our Brother still on high, — 
Lives forever, to bestow 
Blessings on His Church below. 

Jesus lives ! and thus, my soul. 
Life eternal waits for thee : 

Joined to Him, thy Living Head, 
Where He is, thou too shalt be ; 

With Himself, at His right hand, 

Victor over death shalt stand. 

Jesus lives ! To Him my heart 
Draws with ever-new delight : 

Earthly vanities, depart ! 

Hinder not my heavenward flight ! 

Let this spirit ever rise 

To its magnet in the skies. 

Hallelujah ! angels, sing; 

Join us in our hymn of praise ; 
Let your chorus swell the strain 

Which our feebler voices raise ; 
Glory to our God above, 
And on earth His peace and love ! 



CHRIST HATII ARISEN! 



141 



Christ j}at!j Arisen! 



By JoHANM Wolfgang von Goethe, the greatest of German poets, 
born at Franlcfort-on-the-Main in 1749; educated at Leipsic andStrasburg; 
died in March, 1832. His singularly active and fruitful mind was equally 
at home in literature and philosophy, in science and art; and the vast 
body of his published works might almost be said to constitute a literature 
in themselves. The following is the famous " Chorus of the Angels," 
from " Faust." The translation is by Rev. Frederic H. Hedge, D.D., 
who was born in Cambridge, Dec. 12, 1805; graduated at Harvard Col- 
lege in 1825; was educated for the Unitarian ministry; filled pastorates 
at West Cambridge, Bangor, Providence, and Brookline; and since 1872 
has held the Professorship of German Literature at Harvard. Bayard 
Taylor remarked of this chorus, that it is a stumbling-block to the trans- 
lator, on account of the fivefold dactylic rhyme; and added, " Dr. Hedge, 
I believe, is the only one who has hitherto endeavored to reproduce the 
difficult structure of this chorus." 



ANGELS. 

HRIST hath arisen ! 
Joy to our buried Head ! 
Whom the unmerited, 
Trailing inherited 
Woes, did imprison ! 




WOMEN. 



Costly devices 

We had prepared, — 
Shrouds and sweet spices, 

Linen and nard. 



142 CHRIST HATH ARISEN! 

Woe the disaster ! 

Whom we here laid, 
Gone is the Master, 

Empty His bed. 



ANGELS. 

Christ hath arisen 
Loving and glorious : 
Out of laborious 
Conflict victorious 

Christ hath arisen. 



DISCIPLES. 

Hath the inhumated. 

Upward aspiring. 
Hath He consummated 

All His desiring ? 
Is He in benign bliss. 

Near to creative joy .-' 
Wearily we in this 

Earthly house sigh ; 
Empty and hollow, us 

Left He unblest. 
Master, Thy followers 

Envy Thy rest. 



BRIGIITLY GLOWS THE MORNING RED! 1 43 
ANGELS. 

Christ hath arisen 

Out of corruption's womb, 
Burst every prison ! 

Vanish death's gloom ! 
Active in charity, 
Praise Him in verity ! 
His feast, prepare it ye ! 
His message, bear it ye ! 
His joy, declare it ye ! 

Then is the Master near. 

Then is He here. 



fHobj brtgljtlu tjlobjs t])e Horning retil 



Translated from the hymn-book of the Diocese of Treves, by Rich- 
ard Frederick Littledale. 



low brightly glows the morning red ! 
Our Life hath conquered, Death hath 
fled. 

The tomb is void, the warders foiled, 
The Heavens exult, and hell is spoiled. 
The whole creation's wide expanse 
Joys in its risen Saviour's glance ; 




144 BRIGHTLY GLOWS THE MORNING RED i \ 

For He, Who dead and buried lay, ] 

Hath cast the cords of death away. ' 
His sacred wounds are gleaming bright, 

And choirs of Angels in the height i 

Upon the clouds of purple rest, ' 

To watch that resurrection blest. \ 

Before the rising of the sun, i 

The women to the tomb are gone ; J 
And store of spices with them bring. 
To grace the Body of the King. 
And lo ! beside the open grave, 

A white-robed Angel tidings gave, — ■ 

Why seek ye Him among the dead } \ 

He hath arisen, and forth is sped. \ 

Our eyes have seen, our tongues shall tell, : 

That Christ hath conquered death and hell ; 1 

The night of sm is done away, j 

And Judah's Lion wins the day. i 
Thy conquest is our faith, O Lord ! 

For evermore endures Thy word : \ 

Believing thus, in hope we die, i 

To live in Thee for aye on high. | 

\ 



I SAY TO ALL MEN, FAR AND NEAR. 1 45 



31 sag to all iHcn, jTar anti Near. 

By Friedrich von Hardenberg, better known by his literary 
pseudonyme of Novalis. He was bom in Prussian Saxony in 1772, and 
studied at Leipsic and Wittenberg He wrote one or two romances, and a 
volume of hymns, and is characterized by Carlyle as " the most ideal of 
idealists " His literary activity was cut short by his early death, of con- 
sumption, March 19, 1801. The following translation is by Miss Wink- 
worth . 



SAY to all men, far and near, 
That He is risen again ; 

That He is with us, now and here, 
And ever shall remain. 




And what I say, let each this morn 
Go tell it to his friend, — 

That soon in every place shall dawn 
His kingdom without end. 

Now first to souls who thus awake 
Seems earth a fatherland : 

A new and endless life they take 
With rapture from His hand. 



The fears of death and of the grave 
Are whelmed beneath the sea; 

And every heart, now light and brave, 
May face the things to be. 



146 I SAV TO ALL MEN, FAR AND NEAR. 

The way of darkness, that He trod, 
To heaven at last shall come ; 

And he who hearkens to His word 
Shall reach His Father's home. 

Now let the mourner grieve no more. 

Though his beloved sleep : 
A happier meeting shall restore 

Their light to eyes that weep. 

Now every heart each noble deed 
With new resolve may dare : 

A glorious harvest shall the seed 
In happier regions bear. 

He lives : His presence hath not ceased, 
Though foes and fears be rife ; 

And thus we hail, in Easter's feast, 
A world renewed to life ! 



SHIiWE FORTH IN ALL THY SPLENDOR. 1 47 




^im, sttne fortfj \xi all t!}^ ^plcntior. 

By C. J. P. Spitta, born at Hanover, Aug. i, iSoi; died Sept. 28, 
1859. He was a graduate of the University of Gottiiigen, and a minister 
of the Lutheran Church. His character was marked by simphcity and 
gentleness, and his ministry was earnest and zealous. His hymns — 
over one hundred in number — enjoy a great popularity in Germany. 
They have been translated into English by Mr. Rich.\rd Massie, in 
the " Lyra Domeslica." 

UN, shine forth in all thy splendor; 
Joyfully pursue thy way : 
For thy Lord and my Defender 
Rose triumphant on this day. 
When He bowed His head, sore troubled, 

Thou didst hide thyself in night : 
Shine forth now with rays redoubled ; 
He is risen Who is thy light. 

Earth, be joyous and glad-hearted ; 

Spread out all thy vernal bloom : 
For thy Lord is not departed ; 

He has broken through the tomb. 
When the Lord expired, wide-yawning. 

Thy strong rocks were rent with fright : 
Greet thy risen Lord this morning. 

Bathed in floods of rosy light. 



148 SHINE FORTH IN ALL THY SPLENDOR. 

Say, my soul, what preparation 

Makest thou for this high day, 
When the God of thy salvation 

Opened through the tomb a way ? 
Dwellest thou with pure affection 

On this proof of power and love ? 
Doth thy Saviour's resurrection 

Raise thy thoughts to things above ? 

Hast thou, borne on Faith's strong pinion. 

Risen with the risen Lord, 
And, released from sin's dominion, 

Into purer regions soared ? 
Or art thou, in spite of warning, 

Dead in trespasses and sin ? 
Hath to thee the purple morning 

No true Easter ushered in ? 

Oh, then, let not death o'ertake thee 

By the shades of night o'erspread ! 
See ! thy Lord has come to wake thee ; 

He is risen from the dead. 
While the time as yet allows thee. 

Hear : the gracious Saviour cries, — 
" Sleeper, from thy sloth arouse thee ; 

To new life at once arise ! " 

See, with looks of tender pity. 
He extends His wounded hands, 



SHINE FORTH IN ALL THY SPLENDOR. 1 49 

Bidding thee, with fond entreaty, 
Shake off sin's inthralling bands : — 

" Wait not for some future meetness ; 
Dread no punishment from me : 

Rouse thyself, and taste the sweetness 
Of the new life offered thee." 

Let no precious time be wasted ; 

To new life arise at length : 
He who death for thee hath tasted, 

For new life will give new strength. 
Try to rise ; at once bestir thee ; 

Still press on, and persevere ; 
Let no weariness deter thee ; 

He Who woke thee still is near. 

Waste not so much time in weighing 

When and where thou shalt begin : 
Too much thinking is delavinc^ 

Rivets but the chain of sin. 
He will help thee, and provide thee 

With a courage not thine own. 
Bear thee in His arms, and guide thee, 

Till thou learn'st to walk alone. 

Sec ! thy Lord Himself is risen, 
That thou mightest also rise. 

And emerge from sin's dark prison 
To new life and open skies. 



150 LAMB, THE ONCE CRUCIFIED I 

Come to Him who can unbind thee, 
And reverse thy awful doom ; 

Come to Him, and leave behind thee 
Thy old life, — an empty tomb ! 



iLamb, tfje ©nee Cructfietrl 

By Mrs. Dr Meta Heusser-Schweizer, whom Dr. Schaff ranks 
as the most gifted and sweetest of female poets in the German tongue. 
She was born in 1797 near Zurich, Switzerland, and in i858 was still living 
there. The following sublime hymn was composed in 1831 ; and the trans- 
lation — a singularly successful one — was contributed by Professor Thom- 
as C. Porter of Lafayette College to Dr. Schaff's collection,, " Christ 
in Song." 

IAMB, the once crucified ! Lion, by 
triumph surrounded ! 
Victim all bloody, and Hero, who 
hell hast confounded ! 
Pain-riven Heart, 
That from earth's deadliest smart 
O'er all the heavens hast bounded ! — 

Thou in the depths wert to mortals the highest 

revealing, 
God in humanity veiled. Thy full glory con- 
cealing ! 
" Worthy art Thou ! " 
Shouteth Eternity now. 
Praise to Thee endlessly pealing. 




LAMB, THE ONCE CRUCIEIED'. 151 

Heavenly Love, in the language of earth past 

expression ! 
Lord of all worlds, unto whom every tongue 
owes confession ! 
Didst Thou not go, 
And, under sentence of woe, 
Rescue the doomed by transgression ? 

O'er the abyss of the grave, and its horrors 

infernal, 
Victory's palm Thou art waving in triumph 
supernal : 
Who to Thee cling. 
Circled by hope, shall now bring 
Out of its gulf life eternal. 

Son of man. Saviour, in whom, with deep 

tenderness blending, 
Infinite Pity to wretches her balm is extend- 
ing. 
On Thy dear breast, 
Weary and numb, they may rest. 
Quickened to joy never-ending. 

Strange condescension ! immaculate Purity, 

deigning 
Union with souls where the vilest pollution 

is reigning, 



152 LAMB, THE ONCE CRUCIFIED! 

Beareth their sin, 
Seeketh the fallen to win, 
Even the lowest regaining. 

Sweetly persuasive, to me too Thy call has 

resounded, 
Melting my heart so obdurate. Thy love 
has abounded : 
Back to the fold, 
Led by Thy hand, I behold 
Grace all my path has surrounded. 

Bless thou the Lord, O my soul ! who, thy 

pardon assuring, 
Heals thy diseases, and grants thee new life 
ever during ; 
Joy amid woe, 

Peace amid strife here below, 
Unto thee ever securing. 

Upward, on pinions celestial, to regions of 

pleasure, 
Into the land whose bright glories no mortal 
can measure, 
Strong hope and love 
Bear Thee, the fulness to prove 
Of Thy salvation's rich treasure. 



LAMB, THE ONCE CRUCIFIED! 1 53 

There, as He is, we shall view Him, with 

rapture abiding, 
Cheered even here by His glance, when the 
darkness, dividing. 
Lets down a ray. 
O'er the perilous way 
Thousands of wanderers guiding. 

Join, O my voice ! the vast chorus, with 

trembling emotion, — 
Chorus of saints, who, though sundered by 
land and by ocean, 
With sweet accord 
Praise the same glorious Lord, 
One in their ceaseless devotion. 

Break forth, O Nature ! in song, when the 

spring-tide is nighest ; 
World that hast seen His salvation, no longer 
thou sighest ! 
Shout, starry train. 
From your empyreal plain, — 
" Glory to God in the highest ! " 




154 THE LORD OF LIFE IS RISEN! 



%\z iLorti of %\lt is ^\uxi\ 

By Dr. Johann Peter I,ange, Professor at Bonn, and Editor of the 
well-known series of Bible Commentaries. He was born at Sonnborn 
April lo, 1802, and entered the University of Bonn in 1822. He became 
in 1841 Professor of Church History and Dogmatics at Zurich, and in 1854 
Professor of Systematic Theology at Bonn, and in i85o Counsellor of Con- 
sistory. The following translation is by the late Dr. Henry Harbaugh, 
of Mercersburg, Penn. (died Dec. 28, 1867), and was contributed to Dr. 
Schafif 's " Christ in Song." 

HE Lord of life is risen ! 

Sing, Easter heralds ! sing ! 
He burst His rocky prison : 
Wide let the triumph ring. 
Tell how the graves are quaking, 
■ The saints their fetters breaking : 
Sing, heralds ! Jesus lives ! 

In death no longer lying, 
He rose, the Prince, to-day : 

Life of the dead and dying, 
He triumphed o'er decay. 

The Lord of Life is risen : 

In ruin lies Death's prison, 
Its keeper bound in chains. 

We hear in Thy blest greeting, — 
Salvation's work is done ! 



THE LORD OF LIFE IS RISEN! 1 55 

We worship Thee, repeating, — 

Life for the dead is won ! 
O Head of all believing ! 
O Joy of all the grieving ! 

Unite us, Lord, to Thee. 

Here at Thy tomb, O Jesus, 

How sweet the morning's breath ! 

We hear in all the breezes, — 
Where is thy sting, O Death ? 

Dark Hell flies in commotion ; 

While, far over earth and ocean, 
Loud Hallelujahs ring ! 

Oh, publish this salvation. 

Ye heralds, through the earth ! 

To every buried nation 

Proclaim the day of birth ! 

Till, rising from their slumbers, 

The countless heathen numbers 
Shall hail the risen light. 

Hail, hail, our Jesus risen ! 

Sing, ransomed brethren, sing ! 
Through Death's dark, gloomy prison 

Let Easter chorals ring ; 
Haste, haste, ye captive legions ! 
Come forth from sin's dark regions; 

Tn Jesus' Kingdom live. 



156 UP! SOUND YOUR JOYFUL SONGS. 



Victorious. 



Translated from the German by Henry Thompson, and contributed 
to the " Lyra Messianica." 




P ! sound your joyful songs victorious 
And jubilant to Jesus Christ to- 
day ! 

Back to His own he comes all-glorious : 
The grave's strong portals burst to make 
Him way. 
He sank below, in pain and sore disgrace : 
He mounts above, His pathway Angels trace. 

Our God prevails ! yes, fraud and malice 
Their little day may triumph o'er the Just : 

God gives them back their poisoned chalice ; 
Our strength is He, our Helper and our 
Trust. 

He gave indeed His Son to mortal pain : 

This day He shows Him glorified again. 

Praise, praise to him ! the Lord is risen ! 

Now is He Saviour, Lord, and God indeed ; 
Redeemer from sin's deadly prison ; 

From death Redeemer, and from all our 
need. 



UP'. SOUND YOUR JOYFUL SONGS. 1 5/ 

The Father hath avouched Him His this day : 
We reach our country through no other way. 

BHss, bliss, to us ! now death hath o'er us 
No power to fright ; to immortahty, 

Though Earth her veil may spread before us, 
Our spirits now are consecrate and free : 

Could Christ arise thus potent from the grave. 

His flock shall rise, whom thus He died to 
save. 



Jrom tl)e SweMsl). 



OUR PASCHAL JOY AT LAST IS HERE ! l6 1 



©ur ^ascfial Sog at Hast is Jere! 



Translated from the Swedish of Laurence Petersen, who wrote in 
the sixteenth century, by Richard Frederick Littledale, D. C. L. 
Dr. Littledale was born about 1830; graduated at Dublin University in 
1855; was ordained deacon in 1856, and priest in 1857. He was curate in 
Thorpe Hamlet in 1856-7, and of St. Mary-the-Virgin, London, from 1857 
to 1861. He has written several scholarly works in prose, chiefly on 
ecclesiastical subjects; was the principal editor of "The People's Hym- 
nal; " and is the author of numerous excellent translations of Latin, Swed- 
ish, and German hymns. 



jUR Paschal joy at last is here ! 
We praise Thee, Christ, Redeemer 
dear : 

From death Thy servants Thou dost save, 
Thyself arising from the grave. 

The Tree of Life its Fruit hath borne, — 
The Tree where Thou wast hung in scorn, 
Whereon Thy rosy Blood was shed, — 
And now we feed on Heavenly Bread. 

We praise Thee, Jesu ; for Thy hand 
Hath freed us from corruption's band : 




1 62 OUR PASCHAL JOY AT LAST IS HERE! 

Our weary thraldom now is o'er ; 
We bow beneath the Law no more. 

True Paschal Lamb, for sinners slain, 
Christ, free from blemish, pure from stain, 
Be Thou our Strength, our Food, our Life, 
In all our need, in all our strife. 

Thou Who hast conquered hell in fight, 
We can do all things through Thy might, — 
Set free the slaves to give Thee laud. 
And bring them to the land of God. 

O risen Lord ! grant us to rise. 
As Thou hast done, in joyful wise, — 
First for Thy work, from error's gloom ; 
Then, on the last day, from the tomb. 

We praise Thee, who from Death's fierce hold 
The carnal, under evil sold. 
Hast freed, and pointed out the way 
Where we must tread to live for aye. 



DAWN BURSTS O'ER DEATH'S PRISON. 1 63 



©abjit bursts o'er ©eatjj's prison. 

By Franz Michael Franzen, Bishop of Hornosand, who was bom 
at Uleaborg, Finland, in 1772, and died in 1847. He was educated at the 
University of Abo, and became professor of literary history there. 
Later he received the living of Kumla in Sweden, and in 1835 he became 
incumbent of Santa Clara in Stockholm. In 1841 he was appointed 
Bishop of Hornosand. His poetry has been compared to that of the 
so-called Lake school of English poets, in its simple and accurate de- 
lineations of the natural, the domestic, and the idyllic. The following 
translation is by A. P. Hitchcock, one of the editors of " The Norwich 
(Conn.) Bulletin." The last three stanzas were first printed in a little 
Easter leaf-clusler called " Buona Pasqua," in 1878: the first two, com- 
pleting the poem, were contributed by Mr. Hitchcock to a collection of 
Easter poetry, compiled by the editor of the present volume, which was 
published in " The Boston Journal " April 20, 1878. 

AWN bursts o'er Death's prison ; 
Fulfilled is the Word ! 
To life He hath risen : 
Oh, joy to the Lord! 
Redemption completed, 
The last foe defeated, 
The seal has been broken, the tomb is un- 
barred : 
At the breath of His passing, in fright fled 
the guard, 
And Tartarus groans, Alleluia! 

The darkness infernal 
Withstood Him in fight ; 




164 DAWN BURSTS O'ER DEATH'S PR IS ON. 

But victory eternal 

He won for the right. 
Death's kingdom is ended : 

Faith rises again, 
'Mid destinies blended, 
With Hope in her train. 
Ye sorrowing women, why seek ye the dead .'' 
From the grave He hath conquered, the Liv- 
ing hath fled ! 
The Saviour hath risen. Alleluia ! 

Once more upon mortals 

God smileth in love : 
The grave opes its portals 

To pathways above. 
Heads bending in sadness 
'Neath Calvary's cross, 
Look upward with gladness, 
Nor fear the world's loss ! 
Come back, scattered flock, to your Shepherd 

and Lord ! 
He liveth ! He liveth ! to watch you and 
ward, 
Unseen from the skies, Alleluia f 



Ye ages, storm onward ! 
His Church shall not fail : 



DAWy BUJiSTS O'EK DEATH S PJ^ISON. 1 65 

As light spreads from sunward, 

His love shall prevail. 
His messengers, flying 

Where foot hath e'er trod, 
Through battling and dying. 
Bear witness of God, — 
Bear witness of Thee, O Thou Trust in all 

need. 
Who, dying for us, didst Thy followers lead 
Through death up to life, Alleluia ! 

Ye saints, why your sorrow. 
Your doubt and dismay? 
The night and the morrow 

Will soon wear away. 
Soon, soon in earth's bosom 
Shall sleep end your pain ; 
Soon life shall re-blossom 
And spring up like grain. 
Himself, the great Sower, shall come at the 

end. 
And winnow His wheat from the tares, and 
ascend 
To garner his sheaves, Alleluia ! 



^ngliBl). 



DONE IS A BATTLE ON THE DRAGON. 1 69 



©one ts a Battle on t!je ©ragon Blacft. 

By William Dunbar, who was born at Salton, in East Lothian, Scot- 
land, about the year 1460. He took the degree of M.A., at St. Andrew's, 
in 1479, ^"d ^^''^s employed for some time as an itinerant or preaching friar. 
From about 1500 he lived chiefly about the court, and was the recipient 
of pensions and other tokens of royal favor. In 1511 he visited Scotland, 
in the train of Queen Margaret After the defeat at Flodden, and the 
king's death, his name disappears He is supposed to have died about 
1520. He had a wonderful variety of poetic gifts, as original as they were 
wide in range, and he may be fairly described as a Scotch Chaucer. His 
chief poems are " The Thistle and the Rose," and " The Golden Terge." 




ONE is a battle on the Dragon black : 
Our Champion, Christ, confoundit 
has his force : 
The yetts^ of Hell are broken with a crack : 
The sign triumphal raist^ is of the cross : 
The devils tremmils ' with hideous voice : 
The souls are borrowit,^ and to the bliss can 
go: 
Christ with His blood our ransoms does in- 
dooce : ^ 
Sitrrcxit Donihms dc scpulchro. 

Dungin^ is the deidly dragon Lucifer, 
The cruel serpent with the mortal stang ; 

1 Gates. 2 Raised. 3 Trembles. ^ Redeemed. ^ Indorse, 
C Overthrown. ' Stintr. 



I/O DONE IS A BATTLE ON THE DRAGON. 

The auld keen tiger, with his teeth on char/ 
Whilk in a wait for us has lain so lang, 
Thinking to grip ns in his clawis Strang: 

The merciful Lord would not that it were so ; 
He made him to felye ^ of that fang : 

Surrexit Domimis de sepidchro. 

He for our sake that sufferit to be slain, 

And like a lamb in sacrifice was dicht,'' 
Is like a lion risen up again, 

And as gyane ^ has raxit ^ Him on hicht. 

Springin is Aurora radins and bricht, 
On loft is gone the glorious Apollo, 

The blissful day departed fro the n\cht : 
Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro. 

The great Victor again is risen on hicht, 
That for our quarrel to the death was 
woundit : 
The sun that wox^ all pale now shinis bricht, 
And darkness clear't, our faith is now re- 

foundit : 
The knell of mercy fra the Heaven is 
soundit : 
The Christians are deliverit of their wo, 

The Jewis and their error are confoundit : 
Surrexit Doiniims de sepulchro. 

1 On edge. 2 Fail. 3 Dressed. ■* A giant. <> Raised. 
6 Waxed. 



MOST GLORIOUS LORD OF LIFE ! I /I 

The foe is chas't, the battle is done cciss/ 
The prison broken, the jevellours fleet and 
flemit : " 

The war is gone, confirmit is the peiss,* 
The fetters loosit, and the dungeon temit,* 
The ransom maid, the prisoners redeemit : 

The field is won, oure comin ^ is the fo, 
Dispulit ^ of the treasure that he yemit : "' 

Siirrexit Doininus dc scpulc]iro. 

1 A.nd ceased. 2 "phe jailers frightened and driven away. 
3 Peace. * Fmptied. ^ Overcome. ^ Despoiled. ^ Prized. 



Jlost Glorious Horti of 3Lifc I tfjat on 

By Edmund Spenser, who was bom in London in 1353; graduated 
at Cambridge in 1572; died in London Jan. 15, 1599. He held several 
offices under the Crown, and resided for some years in Ireland, where at 
one time he possessed a large estate. By the breaking out o. rebellion he 
lost his property, and died in great destitution. " The Faery Queen " was 
his great work: but he wrote also many lesser pieces, and some exquisite 
sonnets. The following is the sixty-eighth of the " Amoreti." 

OST glorious Lord of Life ! that on 
this day 
^' Didst make Thy triumph over death 
and sin, 
And, having harrowed hell, didst bring away 
Captivity thence captive, us to win : 
This joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin ; 




172 SAVIOUR OF MANKIND. 

And grant that we, for whom Thou diddest 

die, 
Being with Thy dear blood clean washed from 

sin. 
May live forever in felicity ! 
And that Thy love, we, weighing worthily, 
May likewise love Thee for the same again ; 
And for Thy sake, that all like dear didst buy, 
With love may one another entertain. 

So let us love, dear love, like as we ought : 
Love is the lesson which the Lord us 
taught. 



.Sabtour of Jlanlttntr, flan! lEmmanuel! 



By George Sandys, who was born at Bishopsthorpe, Yorkshire, in 
1577, and died in March, 1643. He was a son of the Archbishop of York, 
and studied at Oxford. He made an extensive tour in Greece, Egypt, and 
the Holy Land, and published accounts of his travels, in prose and verse. 
After this, he became treasurer of the colony of Virginia, and, while in 
this country, published a translation of the Metamorphoses of Ovid, which 
was one of the earliest of American books. He published other works, in 
prose and verse; and Dryden styled him " the best versifier of the former 
age." The following lines, which are exquisitely finished, were written at 
the Temple of the Holy Sepulchre. 



AVIOUR of mankind, Man! Em- 
manuel ! 
Who, sinless, died for sin ; Who van- 
quished hell ; 




SAVIOUR OF MANKIND. 1 73 

The first-fruits of the grave ; Whose life did 

give 
Light to our darkness ; in Whose death we 

Hve : 
Oh, strengthen Thou my faith, correct my will, 
So that the latter death shall not devour 
My soul sealed with Thy seal ! So in the 

hour 
When Thou, Whose body sanctified this tomb, 
Unjustly judged, a glorious Judge shalt come 
To judge the world with justice, by that sign 
I shall be known and entertained for Thine. 



174 SLEEP, SLEEP, OLD SUN. 



^leep, sleep, oltr %v>xi\ tfjou canst not 
Jja&e re-past* 

By Dr. John Donne, who was born in 1573, and died Dean of St. 
Paul's in 1631. He was educated for the law, but never practised it; and 
having lost his secretaryship to the Lord Chancellor Ellesmere through 
the revenge of Sir George More, whose daughter Donne had married in 
secret, he was for some years dependent on the generosity of his friends. 
He yielded only after prolonged reflection to the importunity of King 
James, who was so convinced of his fitness for the church that he would 
give him no other preferment. He was made Vicar of St. Dunstan's, and 
Dean of St. Paul's; and he gave himself up to his sacred duties with a 
whole-hearted devotion and sincerity which justified the king's estimate 
of his powers. Sorrow and poverty were not strangers to his life;, but he 
preserved a serene and trustful spirit. He is usually considered as the first 
of the so-called " metaphysical poets " of the seventeenth century. There 
are many quaint, and some grotesque, conceits among his poems; but 
there is also considerable elevation of thought, and genuineness of feeling. 

LEEP, sleep, old sun ; thou canst not 

have re-past ^ 
As yet the wound thou took'st on 
Friday last. 
Sleep, then, and rest : the world may bear 

thy stay ; 
A better sun rose before thee to-day ; 
Who, not content to enlighten all that dwell 
On the earth's face, as thou, enlightened hell, 
And made the dark fires languish in that vale. 
As at thy presence here our fires grow pale ; 
Whose body, having walked on earth, and 
now 

1 Recovered. 




LE T FAITHFi 'LL SO ULES. 1 7 5 

Hastening to heaven, would, that He might 

allow 
Himself unto all stations, and fill all. 
For these three days become a mineral. 
He was all gold when he lay down, but rose 
All tincture ; and doth not alone dispose 
Leaden and iron wills to good, but is 
Of power to make even sinful flesh like His. 
Had one of those, whose credulous piety 
Thought that a soul one might discern and see 
Go from a body, at this sepulchre been, 
And issuing from the sheet this body seen, 
He would have justly thought this body a 

soul. 
If not of any man, yet of the whole. 



3Lct JTait^full Soulcs tf}ts Houlilc JTeast 
attenU* 

By Sir John Beaumont, elder brother of Francis Beaumont the 
dramatist, born in 1582, and died in 1628. Among his writings are a few 
fine religious poems. The following was written upon the two great 
feasts of the Annunciation and the Resurrection, falling on the same day, 
March 25, 1627. Only the closing part is here given: the poem begins, 
" Thrice happy day, which sweetly dost combine." 

ET faithfull soules this double feast 
attend 
In two processions. Let the first 
descend 




176 LET FAITHFULL SOULES. 

The temple's staires, and with a downe-cast 

eye 
Vpon the lowest pavement prostrate lie : 
In creeping violets, white lillies shine 
Their humble thoughts, and ev'ry pure de- 

signe. 
The other troope shall climbe with sacred 

heate 
The rich degrees of Salomon's bright seate : 
In glowing roses fervent zeale they beare ; 
And in the azure flowre-de-lis appeare 
Celestial contemplations, which aspire 
Above the skie, up to th' immortal quire. 



EAR TH, IVHY HAST THOU NEW A TTIRE ? 1 7/ 



.Sag, ISartfj, ixifjg fjast tjou got tfjfe 
Ncbj^ Attire? 

By Giles Fletcher, the date of whose birth is by Chalmers con- 
jectured to have been 1588; though it should probably be placed earlier, 
as the poet's " Canto " on the death of Elizabeth — a vigorous and mature 
production — was published in 1603. He graduated at Cambridge, studied 
theology, and was settled as Rector of Alderton, where he died in 1623. 
His chief work was " Christ's Victorie and Triumph," which was pub- 
lished in 1610, and is known to have had considerable influence in mould- 
ing the muse of Milton. The poem is now little read; but it contains 
some beautiful passages, which richly repay perusal. The following is 
taken from the fourth section of the poem, on " Christ's Triumph after 
Death." In the wide range of Easter poetry, there are few things more 
exquisite than this representation of the universal sympathy of Nature in 
the joy of the Resurrection. The te.xt quoted is that of the edition of the 
Rev. Alexander B. Grosart, in the " Fuller Worthies' Library." 

^AY, Earth, why hast thou got thee 
new attire, 
And stick'st thy habit full of dazies 
red .'' 
Seems that thou doest to some high thought 

aspire, 
And some newe- found -out bridegroome 

mean'st to wed. 
Tell me, ye trees, so fresh appareed, 

So neuer let the spiteful! canker wast you, 
So neuer let the heau'ns with lightning 
blast you. 
Why goe you now so trimly drcst, or whither 
hast you ? 




1/8 SAV, EARTH, WHY HAST THOU 

Answer me, lordan, why thy crooked tide 

So often wanders from his neerest way, 

As though some other way thy streame would 

slide, 
And fain salute the place where something 

lay? 
And you, sweete birds, that, shaded from the 

ray. 
Sit carrolling and piping griefe away, 
The while the lambs to heare you daunce 

and play, — 
Tell me, sweete birds, what is it you faine 

would say ? 

And thou, fair spouse of Earth, that euerie 

yeare 
Gett'st such a numerous issue of thy bride. 
How chance thou hotter shin'st, and draw'st 

more neare ? 
Sure thou somewhear some worthie sight 

hast spide. 
That in one place for ioy thou canst not bide. 
And you, dead swallowes, that so liuely now 
Through the flit ^ aire your winged passage 

rowe, 
How could new life into your frozen ashes 

flowe ? 

1 Flitting; i.e., moving. 



GOT THEE NEW ATTIRE? 1 79 

Ye primroses and purple violets, 

Tell me, why blaze ye from your leauie ' bed, 

And wooe men's hands to rent you from your 

sets. 
As though you would somewhear be carried, 
With fresh perfumes and velvets garnished ? 
But ah ! I neede not aske, 'tis surely so ; 
You all would to your Sauiour's triumphs 
goe: 
There would ye all waaite and humble hom- 
age doe. 

Thear should the Earth herselfe, with gar- 
lands newe 
And lonely fiow'rs embellished, adore : 
Such roses neuer in her garland grewe. 
Such lillies neuer in her brest she wore. 
Like beautie neuer yet did shine before : 
Thear should the sunne another sunne be- 
hold, 
From whence himselfe borrowes his locks 
of gold, 
That kindle heau'n and earth with beauties 
manifold. 

There might the violet .and primrose sweet, 
Beames of more liuely and more lonely grace, 

1 Leafy. 



l8o THIS IS THE DAY 

Arising from their beds of incense meet ; 
Thear should the swallows see new life em- 
brace 
Dead ashes, and the graue vnheal ^ his face, 
To let the living from his bowels creepe, 
Vnable longer his owne dead to keepe : 
There heau'n and earth should see their Lord 
awake from sleepe. 

1 Unveil, or uncover. 



Eftts is tfje IBag t|)e Horti fjatfj matie* 

By George Wither, born at Bentworth, Hampshire, in 1588,; died 
1667. He graduated at Oxford, and studied law, but soon adopted 
literature as a' profession. His life was a troubled one, and he was twice 
imprisoned for political writings. He was a captain of horse in an expe- 
dition against the Scots in 1639, but on the rise of the Commonwealth 
raised a troop of horse for the Parliament, and won the rank of major. 
He was a man of deep and fervid convictions. He was a voluminous 
writer. His poetry abounds in forced and fanciful conceits, and much of it 
is on trivial themes; but it contains many gems which were not adequately 
appreciated during the poet's lifetime, nor for several generations after. 




HIS is the day the Lord hath made, 
And therein joyful we will be ; 
For from the black infernal shade 

In triumph back returned is He : 

The snares of Satan and of Death 

He hath victoriously undone. 

And fast in chains He bound them hath, 

His triumph to attend upon. 



THE LORD HATH MADE. l8l 

The grave, which all men did detest, 
And held a dungeon full of fear, 
Is now become a bed of rest. 
And no such terrors find we there. 
For Jesus Christ hath took away 
The horror of that loathed pit ; 
E'en ever since that glorious day 
In which Himself came out of it. 

His mockings, and His bitter smarts. 
He to our praise and ease doth turn ; 
And all things to our joy converts. 
Which He with heavy heart hath borne : 
His broken flesh is now our food ; 
His blood is shed, is ever since 
That drink which doth our souls most good, 
And that which shall our foulness cleanse. 

Those wounds so deep, and torn so wide. 

As in a rock our shelters are ; 

That which they pierced through His side 

Is made a dove-hole for His dear : 

Yea, now we know, as was foretold. 

His flesh did no corruption see ; 

And that hell wanted strength to hold 

So strong and one so blest as He. 

Oh ! let us praise His name therefore, 
(Who thus the upper hand hath won,) 



1 82 HENCE THE Y HA VE BORN MY LORD. 

For we had else, forevermore, 

Been lost and utterly undone : 

Whereas His favor doth allow 

That we with boldness thus may sing : — 

O Hell ! where is thy conquest now ? 

And thou (O Death) ! where is thy sting ? 

I^ence tfjeg babe Born ntg 3Lort(. 33e= 
jjolti! ttje ^tone. 

By Robert Herrick, who was born in 1591, and died about 1674. 
He studied for a time at Cambridge, with the intention of adopting the 
legal profession; but changed his purpose, and entered into holy orders. 
From 1629 to 1648 he was Vicar of Dean Prior in Devonshire, but was 
ejected by the Puritan party, to whom his royalism and his loose morals 
were alike distasteful. He lived for some years in London, so poor as to 
be a recipient of charity, but enjoying converse with the literary wits of 
the day. About 1660 his vicarage was restored to him, and he retained 
it until his death. He was ill adapted to the sacred office, and his verse 
exhibits the same fluctuations and contradictions as his life. The follow- 
ing is found among his " Noble Numbers." 

ENCE they have born my Lord. 
Behold ! the stone 
Is rowl'd away, and my sweet Sav- 
iour's gone. 
Tell me, white angell, what is now become 
Of Him we lately seal'd up in this tombe .'' 
Is He from hence gone to the shades beneath 
To vanquish Hell, as here He conquer'd 

Death .? 
If so, rie thither follow without feare. 
And live in hell, if that my Christ stayes there. 




RISE, HEART: THY LORD IS RISEN. 1 83 

liaise, l^cart i tf}u Horti is l^isem .Smg 
^is Praise. 

By George Herbert, who, by reason of his saintly life and devout 
poetry, came to be known as " holy George Herbert." He was born at 
Montgomery Castle, Wales, April 3, 1593; graduated with high honors at 
Cambridge, and became a fellow of Trinity College in 161 5. He took 
orders, and became prebendary of Leighton Bromswold, in 1626; was 
married in 1630; and was given the living of Bemerton, near Salisburj', 
where he died in February, 1632. In 1631 he published "The Temple; 
Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations:" and several volumes of his 
writings, in prose and verse, were published after his death. 




ISE, heart : thy Lord is risen. Sing 
His praise, 

Without clelayes, 
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou like- 
wise 

With Him may'st rise ; 
That, as His death calcined thee to dust. 
His life may make thee gold, and much more 
just. 

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part 

With all thy art : 
The crossc taught all wood to resound His 
name 

Who bore the same ; 
I^is stretched sinews taught all strings what 

key 
Is best to celebrate this most high day. 



184 RISE, HEART: THY LORD IS RISEN. 

Consort, both heart and lute, and twist a song 

Pleasant and long : 
Or, since all musick is but three parts vied, 

And multiplied, 
Oh, let thy blessed Spirit bear a part, 
And make up our defects with His sweet art ! 

I got me flowers to straw Thy way ; 

I got me boughs off many a tree : 

But Thou wast up by break of day, 

And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee. 

The Sunne arising in the East, 

Though he give light, and th' East perfume, 

If they should offer to contest 

With Thy arising, they presume. 

Can there be any day but this, 
Though many sunnes to shine endeavor } 
We count three hundred ; but we misse ; 
There is but one, and that one ever. 



LORD, WHO CREATEDST MAN. 1 85 

3Lortr, infjo crcatclist Jlan m l^caltfj 
anti ^tore. 

By George Herbert, 1593-1632. See note to the preceding hymn. 
The title is " Easter-Wings," and the fanciful construction of the verse is 
in accord with the thought. 




ORD, who createdst man in wealth 
and store, 
Though foolishly he lost the same, 
Decaying more and more, 
Till he became 
Most poor ; 

With Thee, 

Oh, let me rise. 

As larks, harmoniously. 

And sing this day Thy victories ; 

Then shall the fall further the flight in me. 

My tender age in sorrow did begin ne ; 

And still with sicknesses and shame 

Thou didst so punish sinne. 

That I became 

Most thinne. 

With Thee 

Let me combine. 

And feel this day Thy victorie ; 

For, if I imp my wing on thine. 

Affliction shall advance the flight in me. 




1 86 ALAS, POO RE DEATH 1 



^las, ^oore ©eatfj! bjfjere is % ffilorte? 

By George Herbert, 1593-1632. It is entitled " A Dialogue- 
Anthem," and Christian and Death are the speakers. 



CHRISTIAN. 

LAS, poore Death ! where is thy glorie .■* 
Where is thy famous force, thy an- 
cient sting .'' 



DEATH. 

Alas, poore mortall, void of storie, 

Go spell and reade how I have killed thy King. 

CHRISTIAN, 

Poore Death ! and who was hurt thereby } 
Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee 
accurst. 

DEATH. 

Let losers talk, yet thou shdlt die : 
These arms shall crush thee — 

CHRISTIAN. 

Spare not ; do thy worst : 
I shall be one day better than before ; 
Thou so much worse, that thou shalt be no 
more. 



DEATH WAS ONCE A HIDEOUS THING. 1 8/ 



©catf), tfjou bjast once an tocoutfj 

By George Herbert, 1593-1632. 




EATH, thou wast once an uncouth 
hideous thing, 

Nothing but bones ; 
The sad effect of sadder grones : 
Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing. 

For we consider'd thee as at some six 
Or ten yeares hence, 
After the losse of hfe and sense, 
Flesh being turn'd to dust, and bones to 
sticks. 

We lookt on this side of thee, shooting short ; 
Where we did finde 
The shells of fledge souls left behinde, 
Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may 
extort. 

But since our Saviour's death did put some 
bloud 

Into thy face, 
Thou art grown fair and full of grace. 
Much in request, much sought for, as a good. 



1 88 UP, AND AWAY! 

For we do now behold thee gay and glad 
As at doomsday, 
When souls shall wear their new aray, 
And all thy bones with beautie shall be clad. 

Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust, 

Half that we have. 
Unto an honest, faithfull grave ; 
Making our pillows either down, or dust. 



^p, antr ^bjagt 

By Christopher Harvey, who was born at Bunbury, in Cheshire, 
in 1597; graduated at Brasen-nose College in 1613; took holy orders, and 
was made Vicar of Clifton. He wrote and published anonymously, in 
1647, " The Synagogue," a series of poems in close imitation of George 
Herbert; and the work is frequently affixed to Herbert's poems. He 
died April i, 1663. The following is taken from "The Synagogue," as 
contained in Grosart's " Fuller Worthies Library." 

P, and away ! 

Thy Saviour's gone before : 
Why dost thou stay, 
Dull soul } Behold, the door 
Is open, and His precept bids thee rise. 
Whose pow'r hath vanquish't all thine ene- 
mies. 
Say not, I live, 

Whilst in the grave thou ly'st : 
He that doth give 

Thee life would have thee prize't 




UP, AND AWAY! I 89 

More highly than to keep it buri'd where 
Thou canst not make the fruits of it appear. 
Is rottenness 

And dust so pleasant to thee, 
That happiness 

And heaven cannot woo thee 
To shake thy shackles off, and leave behind 

thee 
Those fetters, which to death and hell do 

bind thee ? 
In vain thou say'st 

Thou'rt bury'd with thy Saviour, 
If thou delay'st 

To shew by thy behaviour 
That thou art risen with Him. Till thou shine 
Like Him, how canst thou say His hght is 

thine } 
Early He rose, 

And with Him brought the day, 
Which all thy foes 

Frighted out of the way ; 
And wilfe thou sluggard-like turn in thy bed, 
Till noon-sun beams draw up thy drowsy 

head .-• 
Open thine eyes. 

Sin-seised soul, and see 
What cobweb-tyes 

They are that trammel thee ; 



1 90 WHA T FAITHLESS, FRO WARD MAN. 

Not profits, pleasures, honors, as thou thinkest, 
But loss, pain, shame, at which thou vainly 

winkest. 
All that is good 

Thy Saviour dearly bought 
With His heart's blood ; 

And it must there be sought, 
Where He keeps residence Who rose this 

day. 
Linger no longer, then : up, and away ! 



Hfjat Jaitilessi, Jfrohjartr, Sinful Han* 

The following ballad is contained in the Roxburghe Collection, and its 
date is between 1560 and 1700. It was printed as a broadside, in black- 
letter, under the title, " A most Godly and Comfortable Ballad of the 
Glorious Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, how He triumphed over 
Death, Hell, and Sin, whereby we are certainly persuaded of our rising 
again from the Dead." Below the title was a rude wood-cut. In this 
Christ appears on a bow among opening clouds. On either side, at His 
feet, angels blow trumpets. In the centre foreground stands the cross, 
before which a miscellaneous company kneel ; while beyond it the dead 
are rising from their graves in their shrouds. The ballad claims attention 
less by its poetic qualities than by the simplicity and directness with which 
it recites the incidents of the Resurrection. 

HAT faithless, fro ward, sinful man 
so far from grace is fled, 
D That doth not in his heart believe 
the Rising of the Dead ? 
Or why do wicked mortal men 
their lives so vainly frame, 




WIIA T FAITHL ESS, FRO IV A KD MA N. 1 9 1 

That, being Dead, they do suppose 
they shall not rise again ? 

For why, if that the Dead indeed, 

which now consuming lyes, 
Shall not by God be rais'd again, 

then Christ did never rise : 
And if so be our Saviour sweet 

he did not rise from death. 
Our Preaching is of no effect, 

and vain's our hope on Earth. 

If Christ rose not, again I say, 

then are we yet in sin. 
And they that fall asleep in him 

no part of joy shall win. 
Of all the creatures living, then, 

which God on earth did frame. 
Most wretched are the states of men 

which spend their days in vain. 

But Christ is risen up from Death, 

as it was right and meet. 
And thereby trod down Death and Hell 

and sin under His feet ; 
And, that the same to sinful men 

the plainer might appear. 
The glorious rising of the Lord 

his word declareth clear. 



1 92 WHA T FAITHLESS, FRO WARD MAN. 

When he within the grave was laid, 

the Jews did Watch-men set, 
Lest by his friends his corp thence 

should secretly be fet : 
A mighty Stone likewise they did 

on his Sepulchre role, 
And all for fear his body should 

away from thence be stole. 

But in the Dead time of the night 

a mighty earth-quake came, 
The which did shake both Sea and Land, 

and all within the same ; 
And then the Angel of the Lord 

came down from Heaven so high, 
And rol'd away the mighty stone 

which on the ground did lie. 

His face did shine like flaming fire, 

his Cloathes were white as snow, 
Which put the watchmen in great fear, 

who ran away for woe. 
And told unto the High-Priest, plain, 

what I do now rehearse; 
Who hired them for money straight, 

that they should hold their peace. 

And say, quoth he, his servants came, 
whom he sometimes did keep, 



WHA T FAITHLESS, FRO WARD MAN. 1 93 

And secretly stole him away, 

while ye were fast asleep ; 
And, if that Herod hear thereof, 

we will persuade him so. 
That you shall find no hurt at all 

wherever you do go. 

But faithful Mary Magdalen, 

and James her Brother too, 
They brought great store of Oyntment, 

as Jewes were wont to do ; 
Who rose up early in the morn, 

before that it was day, 
The body of the Lord t'annoint 

in grave whereas he lay. 

And when unto the Grave they came, 

they were in wondrous fear : 
They saw a young man in the same ; 

but Christ they saw not there. 
Then said the Angel unto them, 

why are you so afraid ? 
The Lord, whom you do seek, I know 

is risen up, he said. 

Then went these women both away, 

who told these tidings than 
To John and Peter, who in haste 

to the SejDulchre ran ; 



194 WHAT FAITHLESS, FROWARD MAN. 

Who found it as the woman said, 

and then away did go ; 
But Mary stayed, weeping still, 

whose tears declar'd her woe ; 

Who, looking down into the grave, 

two Angels there did see : 
Qd they. Why weeps this woman so ? 

even for my Lord, Qd she ; 
And turning then herself about, 

as she stood weeping so, 
The Lord was standing at her back ; 

but him she did not know. 

Why doth this woman weep ? he said : 

whom seek'st thou in this place ? 
She thought it had the gard'ner been ; 

and thus she shows her case : 
If thou hast borne him hence, she said, 

then tell me where he is ; 
And for to fetch him back again 

be sure I will not miss. 

What, Mary ! then our Saviour said, 

dost thou lament for me ? 
O Master, livest Thou again ? 

My soul doth joy in thee ! 
O Mary, touch me not. He said, 

ere I have been above. 



WHAT FAITHLESS, FRO WARD MAN. 1 95 

Even with my God, the only God 
and Father whom we love. 

And oftentimes did Christ appear 

to his Disciples all : 
Yet Thomas would not it believe, 

his faith it was so small, 
Except that he might thrust his hand 

into the wound so wide. 
And put his finger where the spear 

did pierce the tender side. 

Then Christ, which knew all secrets, 

to them again came he. 
Who said to Thomas, Here I am ; 

as plainly thou may'st see. 
See here the hands which nails did pierce, 

and holes are in my side ; 
Aod be not faithless, O thou man 

for whom these pains I bide ! 

Thus sundry times he shew'd himself 

when he did rise again. 
And then ascended into Heaven, 

in glory for to reign ; 
Where he prepares a place for those 

whom he shall raise likewise. 
To live with him in Heavenly bliss, 

above the lofty skies. 



196 WHAT GLORIOUS LIGHT! 



Smtjat Gortons iLtgijt! 

By Jeremy Taylor, D.D., who was born at Cambridge 1613; and 
died at I.isburn Aug. 13, 1667. He was the son of a barber; but his 
father, who had been in better circumstances, did his utmost to advance 
his education. He graduated at Caius College in 1631, was ordained in 
1633, and, after continuing his studies for a time at Oxford, was appointed 
to the fellowship at All Souls. He served as rector of Uppingham, Rut- 
landshire, and as chaplain of Charles I. at Oxford. He kept a school at 
Llanvihangel in Carmarthenshire, and there wrote some of his greatest 
works. He was taken prisoner at the siege of the Castle of Cardigan. 
In 1660 he signed the declaration of the Royalists, and won the notice of 
the restored king, Charles H., who made him Bishop of Down, Connor, 
and Dromore, and Vice-Chancellor of the University of Dublin. He 
published a number of theological works, volumes of sermons, &c., and 
is now best known by his " Rules for Holy Living and Dying." His 
style is rich, quaint, and learned, with some marked defects as well as 
excellences, — at once rewarding study and discouraging imitation. The 
following is one of his "Festival Hymns" appended to the "Golden 
Grove," a manual of prayers. 

HAT glorious light ! 
How bright a sun, after so sad a 
night, 

Does now begin to dawn ! Bless'd were those 
eyes 
That did behold 
This Sun, when he did first unfold 
His glorious beams, and now begin to rise. 
It was the holy tender sex 
That saw the first ray : 
St. Peter and the other had the reflex, 
The second glimpse o' th' day. 




RISE, HEIR OF FRESH ETERNITY. 1 97 

Innocence had the first ; and he 
That fled, and then did penance, next did see 
The glorious Sun of righteousness 

In his new dress 
Of triumph, immortaUty, and bliss. 
O dearest God, preserve our souls 

In holy innocence ! 
Make us to rise again to th' life of grace ; 
That we may live with thee, and see Thy 
glorious face, 
The crown of holy penitence. 



Eise, l^eir of JFrrsfi IStcrntts* 

Bv Richard Crashaw, who was born in London about 1616; grad- 
uated at Cambridge, where he obtained a fellowship in 1637; and entered 
the English Church in 1641, becoming an earnest and eloquent preacher. 
The Parliament ejected him from his fellowship in 1644 for refusing to 
take the Covenant, and he soon after adopted the Roman-Catholic faith. 
After some hardships, he was recommended to certain Italian dignitaries. 
He was appointed secretary to one of the cardinals, and canon of the 
Church of Lorette In this office he died in 1650. He wrote both Latin 
and Knglish poems; and the latter, of which the following is a good ex- 
ample, greatly resemble the hymns of George Herbert. 




|ISE, heir of fresh eternity, 
^j From thy virgin-tomb ; 

Rise, mighty man of wonders, and 
thy world with thee ; 
Thy tomb, the universal East, — 
Nature's new womb ; 
Th\' tomb, — fair Immortality's perfumed nest. 



198 RISE, HEIR OF FRESH ETERNITY. 

Of all the glories ^ make noon gay 
This is the morn ; 
This rock buds forth the fountain of the 
streams of day ; 
In joy's white annals lives this hour, 
When life was born, 
No cloud-scowl on his radiant lids, no tem- 
pest-lower. 

Life, by this light's nativity, 
All creatures have ; 
Death only by this day's just doom is forced 
to die. 
Nor is Death forced ; for, may he lie 
Throned in thy grave. 
Death will on this condition be content to die. 

1 Which understood. 



DEATH AND DARKNESS. 1 99 



ISeat!) anti ©arfenrss, get gou paclfttng! 



By Henry Vaughn, bom in Newton, Wales, in 1621; and died April 
23, 1695. He studied at Oxford, and became a physician; but chiefly de- 
lighted in literary pursuits. He was an admirer and disciple of Herbert; 
and his " Silex Scintlllans," a collection of sacred poems, was modelled 
after Herbert's " Temple." His earlier poetry was of a secular order, al- 
though free from the objectionable features of the poetry of the time. 
Severe il'ness gave a more serious turn to his mind; and he wrote several 
devotional works in prose, besides the volume of sacred poems already 
referred to. He associated with men of genius in London; but his poetry 
was not appreciated during his life. It exhibits the defects as well as the 
excellences of its model; but is quaint, striking, suggestive, and very 
often impressive. 




EATH and darkness, get you pack- 
ing! 
Nothing now to man is lacking ; 



All your triumphs now are ended, 

And what Adam marr'd is mended. 

Graves are beds now for the weary. 

Death a nap to wake more merry ; 

Youth now, full of pious duty, 

Seeks in thee for perfect beauty ; 

The weak and aged, tired with length 

Of daies, from thee look for new strength ; 

And infants with thy pangs contest 

As pleasant as if with the brest. 

Then unto Him who thus hath thrown 
Even to contempt thy kingdome down, 



200 THOU WHOSE SAD HEART. 

And by His blood did us advance 
Unto His own inheritance. 
To Him be glory, power, praise. 
From this unto the last of daies ! 



^i}ou SEl)ose gati Heart antr SEteping 
l^eati toes ILoiw. 

By Henry Vaughn, 1621-1695. — See note to preceding. 

|HOU whose sad heart and weeping 
head lyes low. 
Whose cloudy brest cold damps in- 
vade. 
Who never feel'st the sun, nor smooth'st thy 
brow. 
But sitt'st oppressed in the shade, — 

Awake ! awake ! 
And in His resurrection partake, 
Who on this day, that thou might'st rise as He, 
Rose up, and cancell'd two deaths due to thee. 

Awake ! awake ! and, like the sun, disperse 

All mists that would usurp this day : 
Where are thy palms, thy branches, and thy 
verse ? 
Hosanna ! hark ! why dost thou stay ? 

Arise ! arise ! 




BLEST MORNING. 20I 

And with his healing bloud anoint thine eyes, 
Thy inward eyes : His bloud will cure thy 

mind, 
Whose spittle only could restore the Wind. 



i3lest Jlornmg, infjose goung IBabming 

By Isaac Watts, D.D., one of the most famous and prolific of Eng- 
lish hymn-writers. He was born at Southampton July 17, 1674; and died 
Nov. 25, 1748. He possessed such precocious talents, that he began the 
study of Latin in his fourth year, and wrote very tolerable hymns at the 
age of seven. He was a minister of the Independent Church in London, 
and he wrote in prose as well as verse, — his best-known prose work 
being a treatise on Logic and Improvement of the Mind. 




LEST morning, whose young dawning 
rays 
Beheld our rising God ; 
That saw Him triumph o'er the dust, 
And leave His dark abode ! 

In the cold prison of a tomb 

The dead Redeemer lay, 
Till the revolving skies had brought 

The third, the appointed day. 

Hell and the grave unite their force 

To hold our God in vain : 
The sleeping Conqueror arose, 

And burst their feeble chain. 



202 YES, THE REDEEMER ROSE. 

To Thy great name, Almighty Lord, 

These sacred hours we pay. 
And loud hosannas shall proclaim 

The triumph of the day. 

■ Salvation and immortal praise 
To our victorious King ! 
Let heaven and earth, and rocks and seas, 
With fflad hosannas rins: ! 



ges, tfje i^etfeemer rose* 

By Philip Doddridge, D.D., who was born in London in 1702, and 
died at Lisbon in 1751. He was pastor of a Congregational church at 
Kibworth, and later at Northampton, where he also carried on an acade- 
my. Here two hundred students received their training, of whom one 
hundred and twenty entered the ministry. He was a man of rare piety 
and industry, and occupied a sphere of wide usefulness as pastor, preacher, 
teacher, expositor of the Scriptures, and author of religious works in prose 
and verse. His hymns were written to be sung at the close of his sermons; 
and they have been compared to " spiritual amber, fetched up and floated 
oflf from sermons long since lost in the depths of bygone time." They 
were published after his death, He was never of robust health, and his 
multiplied labors hastened the pulmonary disease which caused his death. 

ES, the Redeemer rose : 
The Saviour left the dead, 
And o'er our hellish foes 

High raised His conquering head. 
In wild dismay. 
The guards around 
Fell to the ground. 
And sunk away. 




YES, THE REDEEMER ROSE. 203 

Lo ! the angelic bands 

In full assembly meet, 
To wait His high commands, 
And worship at His feet: 
Joyful they come, 
And wing their way 
From realms of day 
To such a tomb. 



Then back to heaven they fly. 
And the glad tidings bear : 
Hark ! as they soar on high, 
What music fills the air ! 
Their anthems say, — 
"Jesus, Who bled. 
Hath left the dead : 
He rose to-day." 



Ye mortals, catch the sound, 

Redeemed by Him from hell, 
And send the echo round 

The globe on which you dwell 
Transported, cry, — 
" Jesus, Who bled. 
Hath left the dead, 
No more to die." 



204 CHRIST THE LORD IS RISEN TO-DAY. 

All hai], triumphant Lord, 

Who sav'st us with Thy blood ! 
Wide be Thy name adored, 
Thou rising, reigning God ! 
With Thee we rise, 
With Thee we reign, 
And empires gain 
Beyond the skies. 



Ci)rist tjje ilorti is risen STo^Uas, 

By Charles Wesley, one of the founders of Methodism, and one 
of the sweetest, as he was certainly the most prolific, of English hymn- 
writers. He was bom at Epworth Dec. i8, 1708, and graduated at Ox- 
ford. In 1735 he took orders, and immediately went to Georgia as a mis- 
sionary, in company with his brother John. The mission was unsuccessful ; 
but its results were of great importance to the Wesleys, as their intercourse 
with the Moravian Christians who sailed in the same ship with them led 
them to embrace their vi?ws. On their return to England they formed, in 
conjunction with Whitefield and others, the first Methodist society, in Fetter 
Lane, London ; and thenceforth their lives were devoted to propagating 
the doctrines and illustrating the principles of that zealous and active de- 
nomination. Charles Wesley died March 29, 1788, leaving behind him 
more than four thousand published hymns, and over two thousand in man- 
uscript. In such a vast body of verse there must needs be much chaff; 
but there are also many grains of pure wheat. 



HRIST the Lord is risen to-day. 
Sons of men, and angels, say : 
Raise your joys and triumphs high ; 
Sing, ye heavens ; and, earth, reply. 




CHRIST THE LORD IS RISEN TO-DAY. 205 

Love's redeeming work is done, 
Fought the fight, the battle won : 
Lo ! our Sun's eclipse is o'er ; 
Lo ! He sets in blood no more. 

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal : 
Christ hath burst the gates of hell ! 
Death in vain forbids His rise : 
Christ hath opened Paradise ! 

Lives again our glorious King : 
Where, O Death, is now thy sting ? 
Once He died our souls to save : 
Where thy victory, O grave ? 

Soar we now where Christ has led, 
Following our exalted Head. 
Made like Him, like Him we rise : 
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. 

What though once we perished all. 
Partners in our parents' fall } 
Second life we all receive, 
In our Heavenly Adam live. 

Risen with Him, we upward move : 
Still we seek the things above; 
Still pursue, and kiss the Son, 
Seated on His Father's throne. 



206 CHRIST THE LORD IS RISEN TO-DAY. 

Scarce on earth a thought bestow, 
Dead to all we leave below : 
Heaven our aim, and loved abode ; 
Hid our life with Christ in God, — 

Hid till Christ our Life appear. 
Glorious in His members here : 
Joined to Him, we then shall shine. 
All immortal, all divine. 

Hail the Lord of earth and heaven ! 
Praise to Thee by both be given ! 
Thee we greet triumphant now : 
Hail, the Resurrection Thou ! 

King of glory. Soul of bliss ! 
Everlasting life is this. 
Thee to know. Thy power to prove, 
Thus to sing, and thus to love ! 



MARY TO HER SAVIOUR'S TOMB. 20/ 



IHarg to ijer ^aijtour*s ^om&. 

By John Newton, who was born in London in 1725, and died Dec. 
21, 1807. His early life was wild and romantic. He was an infidel and 
a profligate. He devoted himself to a seafaring life; and it was on his 
voyage home from Africa — where he had lived in the service of a slave- 
trader — in 1748, during a terrific storm, that the truth of Christianity 
broke in upon him, and he became a changed man. For some years he 
continued to follow the sea; but in 1758 he began to preach, and, after 
six years of study, entered upon a regular ministry in the curacy of 
Olney. In 1779 he became rector of a London church, and his labors 
were earnest and fruitful. He published several volumes in prose, and 
was the principal author of the Olney Hymns. 




fARY to her Saviour's tomb 
Hasted at the early dawn : 
Spice she brought, and sweet per- 
fume ; 
But the Lord she loved was gone. 
For a while she weeping stood, 

Struck with horror and surprise ; 
Shedding tears, a plenteous flood, 
For her heart supplied her eyes. 

Grief and sighing quickly fled 

When she heard His welcome voice : 

Just before, she thought Him dead ; 
Now He bids her heart rejoice. 

What a change His word can make, 
Turning darkness into day ! 



208 THE HAPPY MORN IS COME ! 

You who weep for Jesus' sake, 
He will wipe your tears away. 

He who came to comfort her 

When she thought her all was lost 

Will for your relief appear, 

Though you now are tempest-tossed. 

On His word your burden cast, 
. On His love your thoughts employ : 

Weeping for a while may last ; 
But the morning brings the joy. 



Cfte Happg Horn is come! 

By Thomas Haweis, LL.B., born at Truro, Cornwall, in 1732; died 
in 1820. He graduated at Christ's College, Cambridge, and held a rec- 
torship at Aldwinkle, Northamptonshire. He was a popular preacher, 
and one of the founders of the London Missionary Society. He was the 
author of several prose works, — among them a translation of the New 
Testament, and a commentary on the Bible, — and of a volume of hymns 
entitled " Carmina Christo." 



HE happy morn is come ! 

Triumphant from the grave, 
The Lord hath left the tomb, 
Omnipotent to save. 
Captivity is captive led ; 
For Jesus liveth, and was dead. 




THE HAPPY MORN IS COME ! 209 

Who now accuseth them 

For whom their Surety died ? 
Who now shall those condemn 
Whom God hath justified ? 
Captivity is captive led ; 
For Jesus liveth, and was dead. 

Christ hath the ransom paid ; 
His glorious work is done : 
On Him our help is laid, 
By Him our victory won. 
Captivity is captive led ; 
For Jesus liveth, and was dead. 

To God, the Risen Son, 

Father and Spirit blest, 
^Eternal Three in One, 
All worship be addrest. 
Captivity is captive led ; 
For Jesus liveth, and was dead. 




2IO ANGELS, ROLL THE ROCK AWAY ! 



Angels, roll tlje l^orft abjagl 

By Rev. Thomas Scott, a Presbyterian clergyman, born at Nor- 
wich, England, and died at Hupton in 1776. It was altered by Rev. 
Thomas Gibbons, a Congregational minister in England (1720-1785), 
and is usually ascribed to him. It has passed through many transforma- 
tions; the original version containing seven verses, and beginning, 
" Trembling earth gave awful signs." The following is the form given 
in Dr. Schaff 's " Christ in Song," and pronounced by him at least equal 
to the original, although so changed as to read like quite another hymn. 

NGELS, roll the rock away ! 
Death, yield up the mighty prey ! 
See ! the Saviour quits the tomb, 
Glowing with immortal bloom. 
Hallelujah ! Hallelujah ! 
Christ the Lord is risen to-day. 

Shout, ye seraphs ! angels, raise 
Your eternal song of praise ! 
Let the earth's remotest bound 
Echo to the blissful sound ! 

Hallelujah ! Hallelujah ! 
Christ the Lord is risen to-day. 

Holy Father, Holy Son, 
Holy Spirit, Three in One, 
Glory as of old to Thee, 
Now and evermore, shall be ! 

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! 
Christ the Lord is risen to-day. 




AGAIN THE LORD OF LIFE AND LIGHT. 211 



^Sain tf}e ILorti of Htfe antr 5Licji}t, 



By Anna L.-etitia Barbalxd, born in Leicestershire June 20, 1743; 
died at Newington Green in 1825. She was the daughter of a Dissenting 
clergyman, Rev. John Aikin; and the wife of another, Rev. Rochemont 
Barbauld. She wrote verses at an early age, and in 1773 published a 
volume of poems which attained considerable popularity. 



GAIN the Lord of Life and Light 
Awakes the kindling ray, 
Unseals the eyelids of the morn, 
And pours increasing day. 



Oh, what a night was that which wrapt 
The heathen world in gloom ! 

Oh, what a sun which broke this day 
Triumphant from the tomb ! 

This day be grateful homage paid. 

And loud hosannas suns: ; 
Let gladness dwell in every heart. 

And praise on every tongue. 

Ten thousand differing lips shall join 

To hail this welcome morn, 
Which scatters blessings from its wings 

To nations yet unborn. 



212 AGAIN THE LORD OF LIFE AND LIGHT. 

The powers of darkness leagued in vain 

To bind His Soul in death : 
He shook their kingdom, when He fell, 

With His expiring breath. 

And now His conquering chariot-wheels 

Ascend the lofty skies ; 
While, broken beneath His powerful cross, 

Death's iron sceptre lies. 

Exalted high at God's right hand, 

The Lord of all below, 
Through Him is pardoning love dispensed, 

And boundless blessings flow. 

And still for erring, guilty man, 

A Brother's pity flows ; 
And still His bleeding heart is touched 

With memory of our woes. 

To Thee, my Saviour and my King, 

Glad homage let me give ; 
And stand prepared like Thee to die. 

With Thee that I may live ! 



WHO COMES? 213 



Smjjo (iTomes? 



By William Lisle Bowles, born at King's Sutton 1762; educated 
at Winchester and Oxford; died at Salisbury April 7, 1850. He was ap- 
pointed Vicar of Bremhill in 1804, and held that position for the remainder 
of his life. He was the author of several prose works, and the complete 
edition of his poems fills two volumes. He was specially distinguished 
for his sonnets, which gave inspiration to Coleridge's muse; and one of 
his biographers, Rev. George GilfiUan, characterizes him as the father of 
modern poetry. 



HO comes (my soul, no longer doubt) 
Rising from earth's wormy sod, 
And, whilst ten thousand angels sing, 
Ascends, ascends to heaven, a God ? 



Saviour, Lord, I know Thee now ! 

Mighty to redeem and save : 
Such glory blazes on Thy brow. 

Which lights the darkness of the grave. 

Saviour, Lord, the human soul — 
Forgotten every sorrow here — 

Shall thus, aspiring to its goal, 
Triumph in its native sphere. 





214 THE SETTING ORB OF NIGHT. 



^1)0 ^etttns ©x\ of Ntsjjt fjer ILebel ^aag. 

By James Grahame, born in Glasgow April 22, 1765; and died near 
that city Sept. 14, 1811. He was a graduate of the University of Glas- 
gow, and studied law at Edinburgh. He left the legal profession to culti- 
vate his poetic gifts; and in i8og he gratified a long-cherished desire by 
taking orders in the Church of England. After brief service as curate at 
Shipton and at Sedgefield, ill health compelled the abandonment of his 
sacred duties. He left several poetical works, the best known of which is 
" The Sabbath," from which the following is taken. 

|HE setting orb of night her level ray 
Shed o'er the land, and on the dewy- 
sward 

The lengthened shadows of the triple cross 
Were laid far stretched ; when in the east 

arose, 
Last of the stars, day's harbinger. No sound 
Was heard, save of the watching soldier's 

foot. 
Within the rock-barred sepulchre the gloom 
Of deepest midnight brooded o'er the dead, 
The Holy One. But, lo ! a radiance faint 
Began to dawn around His sacred brow ; 
The linen vesture seemed a snowy wreath, 
Drifted by storms into a mountain cave ; 
Bright, and more bright, the circling halo 

beamed 
Upon that face, clothed in a smile benign. 



THE SETTING ORB OF NIGHT. 215 

Though yet exanimate. Nor long the reign 
Of death : the eyes that wept for human 

griefs 
Unclose, and look around with conscious joy. 
Yes : with returning life, the first emotion 
That glowed in Jesus' breast of love was 

joy 
At man's redemption, now complete ; at death 
Disarmed ; the grave transformed into the 

couch 
Of faith ; the resurrection and the life. 
Majestical He rose : trembled the earth ; 
The ponderous gate of stone was rolled 

away ; 
The keepers fell ; the angel, awe-struck, sunk 
Into invisibility ; while forth 
The Saviour of the world walked, and stood 
Before the sepulchre, and viewed the clouds 
Impurpled glorious by the rising sun. 



2l6 HE'S GONE! SEE WHERE HE LAY. 



W% gone! gee ixifjere ^is iSoUg lag. 

By Thomas Kelly, born at Dublin in 1769; died May 14, 1855. 
He was the son of the Right Hon. Chief Baron Kelly, and studied at 
Dublin University. He abandoned the study of law for theology, and 
took orders in 1792. Becoming dissatisfied with the Established Church, 
he left it, and founded a sect which bore his name. He was a man of 
wealth and learning, and wrote nearly eight hundred hymns, some of 
which have come into very general use. The following is the original 
version of a hymn which appears in an abridged and altered form in 
" Hymns Ancient and Modern," and in many hymnals. 

|E'S gone ! see where His body lay, 
A prisoner till the appointed day, 
Released from prison then. 
Why seek the living with the dead ? 
Remember what the Saviour said, — 
That He should rise again. 

O joyful sound ! O glorious hour ! 
When Jesus, by almighty power. 

Revived, and left the grave. 
In all His works behold Him great ! 
Before, Almighty to create ; 

Almighty now to save ! 

" The first begotten from the dead," 
Behold Him risen, His people's Head, 
To make their life secure : 




HE'S GONE! SEE WHERE HE LAY. 21/ 

They too, like Him, shall yield their breath, 
Like Him shall burst the bands of death, 
Their resurrection sure. 

Why should His people now be sad ? 
None have such reason to be glad. 

As reconciled to God. 
Jesus the mighty Saviour lives : 
To them eternal life He gives, 

The purchase of His blood. 

Why should His people fear the grave? 
Since Jesus will their spirits save, 

And raise their bodies too. 
What though this earthly house shall fail ? 
Almighty power will yet prevail, 

And build it up anew. 

Ye ransomed, let your praise resound, 
And in your Master's work abound 

With strong and patient faith ! 
Be sure your labor's not in vain : 
Your bodies shall be raised again. 

No more to suffer death. 




2l8 COME, YE SAINTS. 

^ome, 20 faints, look Jere, anti iwontrer. 

By Thomas Kelly, 1769-1855. — See note to the preceding hymn. 

OME, ye saints, look here, and won- 
der ; 
See the place where Jesus lay : 
He has burst His bands asunder ; 
He has borne our sins away : 

Joyful tidings ! 
Yes, the Lord has risen to-day. 

Jesus triumphs ! Sing ye praises : 

By His death He overcame : 
Thus the Lord His glory raises, 

Thus He fills His foes with shame. 
Sing ye praises, — 

Praises to the Victor's name. 

Jesus triumphs ! Countless legions 

Come from heaven to meet their King : 

Soon, in yonder blessed regions. 
They shall join His praise to sing; 

Songs eternal 
Shall through heaven's hisrh arches rinsf. 



WHO IS THIS THAT COMES FROM EDOM? 219 




il!)0 is t!)ti5 t|)at comes from 5£tiom? 

By Thomas Kelly, 1769-1855. — See note to the hymn, " He's gone! 
see where His body lay." 

HO is this that comes from Edom, 
All His raiment stained with blood, 
To the captive speaking freedom, 
Bringing and bestowing good ? 
Glorious in the garb He wears, 
Glorious in the spoil He bears. Alleluia ! 

Tis the Saviour, now victorious, 
Travelling onward in His might ; 

'Tis the Saviour : oh, how glorious 
To His people is the sight ! 

Satan conquered, and the grave, 

Jesus now is strong to save. Alleluia ! 

This the Saviour has effected 

By His mighty arm alone. 
See the throne for Him erected ! 

'Tis an everlasting throne ; 
'Tis the great reward He gains, 
Glorious fruit of all His pains. Alleluia ! 



220 THE LORD IS RISEN INDEED. 

Mighty Victor, reign forever ; 

Wear the crown so dearly won : 
Never shall thy people, never, 

Cease to sing what Thou hast done : 
Thou hast quelled Thy people's foes, 
Thou hast healed Thy people's woes. Alleluia ! 




^fje ilorlj is risen intieeti* 

By Thomas Kelly, 1769-1855. 



HE Lord is risen indeed ; 
And are the tidings true } 
Yes, we beheld the Saviour bleed, 
And saw Him living too. 



The Lord is risen indeed : 
Then Justice asks no more ; 

M«rcy and Truth are now agreed, 
Who stood opposed before. 

The Lord is risen indeed : 
Then is His task performed ; 

The captive surety now is freed, 
And death our foe disarmed. 



THE LORD IS RISEN INDEED. 221 

The Lord is risen indeed : 
Then Hell has lost his prey ; 

With Him is risen the ransomed seed, 
To reign in endless day. 

The Lord is risen indeed : 

He lives to die no more ; 
He lives the sinner's cause to plead, 

Whose curse and shame He bore. 

The Lord is risen indeed : 

This yields my soul a plea ; 
He bore the punishment decreed ; 

This satisfies for me. 

The Lord is risen indeed : 

Attending angels, hear ! 
Up to the courts of heaven with speed 

The joyful tidings bear. 

Then take your golden lyres. 
And strike each cheerful chord, 

Join all the bright celestial choirs. 
To sine: our Risen Lord. 



222 MORNING OF THE SABBATH DAY. 



JHornins of tije ^abijatl} liag. 



By James Montgomery, born at Irvine, in Ayrshire, Nov. 4, 1771; 
died at- Sheffield April 30, 1854. He was of Irish parentage, and his 
father was a Moravian minister. He was himself designed for the minis- 
try ; but his tastes led him into literary pursuits, and he became editor of 
the Sheffield " Iris " in 1795. He was twice imprisoned for reflections 
upon the government; and it was in prison, in 1797, that he commenced 
writing verses. His poems won and held a large measure of popularity, 
and his hymns in particular may be regarded as a permanent legacy to 
sacred literature. He was of a pure and generous character, and his life 
was long and tranquil. Among his longer poems are " The Ocean," 
" The Wanderer," " The West Indies," " The World before the Flood," 
" Greenland," and " The Pelican Island." 



ORNING of the Sabbath day, 
O thou sweetest hour of prime ! 
Dart a retrospective ray 
O'er the eastern hills of time ; 
Daybreak let my spirit see 
At the foot of Calvary. 

Joseph's sepulchre is nigh ; 

Here the seal upon the stone ; 
There the sentinel, with eye ' 

Star-like fixed on that alone. 
All around is calm and clear : 
Life and death keep Sabbath here. 




MORNING OF THE SABBATH DAY. 223 

Bright and brighter, beam on beam, 
Now, like first created hght, 

From the rock-cleft, gleam by gleam, 
Shoots athwart the waning night, 

Till the splendor grows intense, 

Overpowering mortal sense. 

Glory turns with me to gloom. 
Sight, pulsation, thought" depart ; 

And the stone that closed the tomb 
Seems to lie upon my heart. 

With that shock the vision flies : 

Christ is risen, and I may rise, — 

Rise, like Him, as from this trance, 
When the trumpet calls the just 

To the saints' inheritance 

From their dwellings in the dust. 

By thy resurrection's power, 

Jesus, save me in that hour ! 

Sabbath morning, hail to thee ! 

O thou sweetest hour of prime ! 
From the foot of Calvary 

Now to Zion's top I climb, 
There my risen Lord to meet, 
In His temple, at His feet. 



224 LO! THE DAY THE LORD HATH MADE ! 



iLo! tfje ©as tfje ILorti jjatb matie! 

By Bishop Richard Mant, bom at Southampton in 1776; died Nov, 
2, 1848. He graduated at Oxford in 1797; was appointed curate in 1802, 
and vicar in 1810. In 1813 he was appointed domestic chaplain to the 
Archbishop of Canterbury; and, three years later, he was made Rector 
of St. Botolph, London. He was made a bishop in 1820, and presided 
over the sees of Kilfaloe, of Down and Connor, and of Dromore. He 
wrote many hymns and translations, and published also several prose 
works. 




O ! the day the Lord hath made ! 
From the tomb's funereal shade 
Now the Sun of goodness brings 
Healmg on His radiant. wings ; 
And before His bridal light 
All the denizens of night, 
Fear, and shame, and sorrow, fade : 
Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 

Angels, who the morn outrun 
To adore the glorious Sun, 
At whose step the firm earth shakes. 
From whose eye the lightning breaks ; 
Ye, whose hand excels in might ; 
Ye, whose accents breathe delight ; 
Forms in dazzling white arrayed, — 
Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 



LO! THE DAY THE LORD HATH MADE! 22 S 

Holy women, whom the dawn 
Sees by pious duty drawn 
To the Saviour's rock-hewn bed, 
Tears and unguents rich to shed, — 
Stay your tears, your gifts withhold ; 
Angel-led, the cave behold 
Where the Saviour's corse was laid : 
Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 



Holy men, beloved pair. 

Who with rival speed repair 

To explore the inmost gloom 

Of the yet untrodden tomb, 

Mark the clothes that wrapped Him round, 

Swathed His limbs, His temples bound. 

All in seemliest order laid : 

Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 



First of all the faithful train 
To behold thy Lord again, 
Stay not, Mary, weeping here : 
See, thy Saviour's self is near ! 
Quick thy mighty Master greet ; 
Fall in homage at His feet. 
All thy griefs are now repaid : 
Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 



236 LO! THE DAY THE LORD HATH MADE! 

Doubtful hcaits, whom late lie taught, 
Musing" now in anxious thought. 
Cease your doubts, your sorrows cease ; 
Hear Him speak the words of peace. 
Deem \'our eves no spirit meet : 
Mark His pierced hands and feet ; 
Mark His wounded side displayed : 
Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 



Church of God, whom this fair morn 

Sees to life and gUiry born. 

Founded on the living Stone, 

Which, by Judah's builders thrown, 

Thrown with infamv aside, 

Now becomes thy Strength and Pride, 

Be thy debt of duty paid : 

Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 



Ever as this day shall rise. 
Beaming in the vernal skies, 
Duly to the Saviour's praise. 
Church of God, the anthem raise ! 
Christ, our Passover, was slain : 
Keep the feast, and swell the strain. 
Christ is raisM from the dead : 
Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 



MOKNING BKEAA'S UPON THE TOMB. 22/ 



IHornmg JjrrafiS upon tfjc Eomii, 



By WiLUAM Bengo Collyer, D.D., bom al Rlackheath, Kent, 
April 14, 17S2; tlied Jan. 9, 1854. Ho received only an acxideniic educa- 
tion, and began to preach at the age of eighteen. He was pastor of a 
congregation at Pcckham, Surrey, for fifty-three years. He published 
several volumes of prose, and one book of hymns. 




fORNING breaks upon the tomb ; 
Jesus dissipates its gloom ! 
Day of triumph through the skies, 
See the glorious Saviour rise ! 



Christians, dry your flowing tears ; 
Chase those unbelieving fears ; 
Look on His deserted grave ; 
Doubt no more His power to save. 

Ye who are of death afraid, 
Triumph in the scattered shade ; 
Drive your anxious cares away ; 
See the place where Jesus lay. 

So the rising sun appears, 
Shedding radiance o'er the spheres ; 
So returning beams of light 
Chase the terrors of the ni^ht. 



228 CHRIS2' IS RISEN! THE LORD IS COME. 



Cfjrtst is risen! tfje Hortt \% come* 



By Henry Hart Milman, D.D., who was born in London Feb. lo, 
1791; graduated at Oxford 1816; ordained 1817; Vicar of St. Mary's, 
Reading, 1817-35; professor of poetry at Oxford 1821-31; Rector of St. 
Margaret's, Westminster, and Canon of Westminster, 1835-49; Dean of 
St. Paul's 1849; died at Sunningfield, near Ascot, Sept. 24, 1868. He is 
best known by his great works, the History of the Jews, the History of 
Christianity, and the History of Latin Christianity, which are character- 
ized by a thorough and fearless scholarship, impartiality of judgment, and 
eloquence of style. He wrote several biographical and historical essays ; 
edited the writings of several poets; translated from the Sanscrit, Greek, 
and Latin; and published three volumes of poems, from the second of 
which the following is taken. 



HRIST is risen ! the Lord is come, 
Bursting from the sealed tomb ! 
Death and Hell in mute dismay 
Render up their mightier prey. 



Christ is risen ! but not alone !' 
Death, thy kingdom is o'erthrown ! 
We shall rise as He hath risen 
From the deep sepulchral prison. 

Heirs of death, and sons of clay, 
Long in death's dark thrall we lay, 
And went down in trembling gloom 
To the unawakening tomb. 




CHRIST IS RISEN! THE LORD IS COME. 229 

Heirs of life, and sons of God, 
On the patli our Captain trod, 
Now we hope to soar on high 
To the everlasting sky. 

Mortal once, immortal now. 

Our vile bodies off we throw, 

Glorious bodies to put on 

Round our great Redeemer's throne. 

Lofty hopes ! and theirs indeed 
Who the Christian's life shall lead : 
Christ's below in faith and love, 
Christ's in endless bliss above. 



230 O DAY OF DAYS! 



© J3a2 of ©agg ! sfjall f^earts set JFree. 



By Rev. John Keble, who claims notice as the author of the most 
popular collection of hymns of the century, and as one of the chief ori- 
ginators of the Tractarian movement in the Church of England. He was 
born at Fairford, Gloucestershire, April 25, 1792; graduated M.A. at Ox- 
ford in 1813 ; became Curate of Hursley in 1825 ; but soon after returned to 
Fairford, where he resided imtil 1835. About this time he became Vicar of 
Hursley, and retained that living until his death, March 29, 1866. He 
was appointed professor of poetry at Oxford in 1831, and wrote early and 
late, in prose and verse, until the year of his death. His fame rests 
chiefly upon his " Christian Year," a volume of poems pertainmg to the 
festivals of the Church. This book has had an extraordinary popularity. 
It was first published in 1827, and the author lived to revise the ninety- 
sixth edition of it. Dr. Arnold declared that he never saw poems equal- 
ling these in the wonderful knowledge of Scripture, the purity of heart, 
and the richness of poetry, which they exhibit. Keble wrote also the 
" Lyra Innocentium," a volume of poems on the ways and privileges of 
children; " The Psalter," a metrical rendering of the Psalms of David; 
sundry pieces in the " Lyra Apostolica; " and a number of religious, theo- 
logical, and controversial works in prose. 



DAY of days ! shall hearts set free 
No "minstrel rapture " find for thee } 
Thou art the Sun of other days : 
They shine by giving back thy rays. 

Enthroned in thy sovereign sphere, 
Thou shedd'st thy light on all the year : 
Sundays by thee more glorious break, 
An Easter Day in every week. 




O DAY OF DAYS! 23 1 

And week-days, following in their train, 
The fulness of thy blessing gain ; 
Till all, both resting and employ, 
Be one Lord's day of holy joy. 

Then wake, my soul, to high desires, 
And earlier light thine altar-fires : 
The World some hours is on her way, 
Nor thinks on thee, thou blessed day. 

Or, if she thinks, it is in scorn : 
The Vernal light of Easter morn 
To her dark gaze no brighter seems 
Than Reason's or the Law's pale beams. 

"Where is your Lord .-' " she scornful asks : 
"Where is His hire.-* we know His tasks : 
Sons of a King ye boast to be : 
Let us your crowns and treasures see." 

We in the words of Truth reply, 
(An angel brought them from the sky,) — 
"Our crown, our treasure, is not here; 
'Tis stored above the highest sphere. 

Mcthinks your wisdom guides amiss, 
To seek on earth a Christian's bliss : 
We watch not now the lifeless stone ; 
Our only Lord is risen and gone." 



232 O DAY OF DAYS! 

Yet even the lifeless stone is dear, 
For thoughts of Him who late lay here ; 
And the base world, now Christ hath died, 
Ennobled is, and glorified. 

No more a charnel-house to fence 
The relics of lost innocence, — 
A vault of ruin and decay : 
The imprisoning stone is rolled away. 

'Tis now a cell, where angels use 
To come and go with heavenly news, 
And in the ears of mourners say, — 
"Come, see the place where Jesus lay." 

'Tis now a fane where Love can find 
Christ everywhere embalmed and shrined. 
Aye gathering up memorials sweet 
Where'er she sets her duteous feet 

Oh, joy to Mary first allowed, 
When roused from weeping o'er His shroud 
By His own calm, soul-soothing tone. 
Breathing her name as still His own ! 

Joy to the faithful three renewed, 
As their glad errand they pursued ! 
Happy, who so Christ's word convey. 
That He may meet them on their way. 



CHRIST HATH ARISEN! 233 

So is it still : to holy tears, 
In lonely hours, Christ risen appears : 
In social hours, who Christ would see, 
Must turn all tasks to charity. 



CJrist j}at|) arisen! © JSountain^ 
^eafes, attest I 

By Mrs. Felicia Hemans, bom at Liverpool Sept. 25, 1793; died at 
Dublin May i6, 1835. A woman of rare loveliness of character, her 
life was clouded by domestic trouble, and by long and painful illness; 
but her verse was always clear, pure, and elevated in sentiment, and ex- 
hibited a serene faith. She holds a place among the foremost of the 
British female poets, and was one of the most prolific writers of her day. 
The stanzas which follow constitute the concluding portion of her poem, 
" Easter Day in a Mountain Churchyard." 

[HRIST hath arisen ! O mountain- 
peaks, attest ! 
Witness, resounding glen and torrent- 
wave ! 
The immortal courage in the human breast 
Sprung from that victory ; tell how oft the 
brave 
To camp midst rock and cave. 
Nerved by those words, their struggling faith 

have borne. 
Planting the cross on high above the clouds 
of morn ! 




234' CHRIST HATH ARISEN! 

The Alps have heard sweet hymnings for to- 
day ; 

Ay, and wild sounds of sterner, deeper tone 

Have thrilled their pines, when those that 
knelt to pray 

Rose up to arm ! The pure, high snows have 
known 
A coloring not their own, 

But from true hearts, which, by that crimson 
stain, 

Gave token of a trust that called no suffering 
vain. 

Those days are past : the mountains wear no 

more 
The solemn splendor of the^martyr's blood ; 
And may that awful record, as of yore, 
Never again be known to field or flood ! 

E'en though the faithful stood, 
A noble army, in the exulting sight 
Of earth and heaven, which blessed their 

battle for the right ! 

But many a martyrdom by hearts unshaken 
Is yet borne silently in homes obscure ; 
And many a bitter cup is meekly taken ; 
And for the strength whereby the j ust and pure 
Thus steadfastly endure, 



WEEPER! HOW BRIGHT A MORN! 235 

Glory to Him whose victory won that dower, — 
Him from whose rising streamed that robe of 
spirit-power ! 

Glory to Him ! Hope to the suffering breast ! 
Light to the nations ! He hath rolled away 
The mists, which, gathering into deathlike 

rest, 
Between the soul and heaven's calm ether lay. 

His love hath made it day 
With those that sat in darkness. Earth and 

sea, 
Lift up glad strains for man by truth divine 

made free ! 

SEcrpcr! ta tfjee fjoirr 33rig!)t a iHorn 
bias gtbetx! 

By Mrs. Hemans. — See note to preceding. The following sonnet is 
upon " Mary Magdalene at the Sepulchre." 

EEPER ! to thee how bright a morn 
was given 
After thy long, long vigil of despair. 
When that high voice which burial-rocks had 
riven 
Thrilled with immortal tones the silent air! 
Never did clarion's royal blast declare 
Such tale of victory to a breathless crowd, 




236 ALL IS O'ER ; THE PAIN, THE SORROW. 

As the deep sweetness of one word could 
bear 
Into thy heart of hearts, O woman ! bowed 
By strong affection's anguish ! one low word, - 
" Mary / " — and all the triumph wrung 
from death 
Was thus revealed ; and thou, that so hadst 

erred, 
So wept, and been forgiven, in trembling faith 
Didst cast thee down before the all-conquer- 
ing Son, 
Awed by the mighty gift thy tears and love 
had won ! 



i[ll is o*er ; tje Pain, tjje ^orroto. 

By John Moultrie, who was born Dec. 30, 1799; educated at Eton 
and Cambridge; ordained deacon in 1825, and priest soon after; and en- 
tered the Hving of Rugby in 1828, which he retained until his death, — 
from disease contracted at the bedside of a parishioner, — in December, 
1874. A complete edition of his poems was published after his death. 
Moir characterizes him as " a poet of elegant mind, and of considerable 
pathetic power." Several of his religious poems have come into general 
use as hymns; and an abridged and somewhat altered version of the fol- 
lowing, comprising only the first three and the last verses, is adopted in 
the Hymnal of the Protestant Episcopal Church, and in several other 
hymnals. 

LL is o'er ; the pain, the sorrow, 
Human taunts, and fiendish spite : 
Death, shall be despoiled to-morrow 
Of the prey he grasps to-night : 




ALL IS O'ER ; THE PAIN, THE SORROW. 237 

Yet once more, to seal his doom, 
Christ must sleep within the tomb. 

Close and still the cell that holds Him, 
While in brief repose He lies ; 

Deep the slumber that infolds Him, 
Veiled a while from mortal eyes, — 

Slumber such as needs must be 

After hard-won victory. 

Fierce and deadly was the anguish 
Which on yonder cross He bore : 

How did soul and body languish 
Till the toil of death was o'er ! 

But that toil, so fierce and dread. 

Bruised and crushed the serpent's head. 

Whither hath His soul departed .'' 
Roams it on some blissful shore. 

Where the meek and faithful-hearted, 
Vext by this world's hate no more, 

Wait until the trump of doom 

Call their bodies from the tomb .'' 

Or, on some benignant mission 
To the imprisoned spirits sent, 

Hath He to their dark condition 
Gleams of hope and mercy lent .-* — 



238 ALL IS O'ER ; THE PAIN, THE SORROW. 

Souls not wholly lost of old 
When o'er earth the deluge rolled ! 

Ask no more : the abyss is deeper 
E'en than angels' thoughts may scan. 

Come, and watch the Heavenly Sleeper ; 
Come, and do what mortals can, — 

Reverence meet toward Him to prove, 

Faith and trust and humble love. 

Far away, amidst the regions 
Of the bright and balmy East, 

Guarded by angelic legions 

Till death's slumber shall have ceased, 

(How should we its stillness stir ?) 

Lies the Saviour's sepulchre. 

Far away ; yet thought would wander 
(Thought by faith's sure guidance led) 

Farther yet, to weep and ponder 
Over that sepulchral bed. 

Thither let us haste, and flee 

On the wings of fantasy. 

Haste, from every clime and nation. 
Fervent youth and reverent age, 

Peasant, prince, — each rank and station, — 
Haste, and join this pilgrimage. 



ALL IS O'ER ; TLIE PAIN, THE SORROW. 239 

East and west, and south and north, 
Send your saintliest spirits forth. 

Mothers, ere the curtain closes 

Round your children's sleep to-night, 

Tell them how their Lord reposes, 
Waiting for to-morrow's light ; 

Teach their dreams to Him to rove, — 

Him who loved them. Him they love. 

Matron grave, and blooming maiden, 
Hoary sage, and beardless boy, 

Hearts with grief and care o'erladen. 
Hearts brimful of hope and joy. 

Come, and greet in death's dark hall 

Him who felt with, felt for all. 

Men of God, devoutly toiling 

This world's fetters to unbind, — 

Satan of his prey despoiling 

In the hearts of human kind, — 

Let to-night your labors cease ; 

Give your careworn spirits peace. 

Ye who roam our seas and mountains. 
Messengers of love and light ; 

Ye who guard Truth's sacred fountains. 
Weary day and wakeful night ; 



240 ALL IS O'ER; THE PAIN, THE SORROW. 

Men of labor, men of lore, — 
Give your toils and studies o'er. 

Dwellers in the woods and valleys ; 

Ye of meek and lowly breast ; 
Ye who, pent in crowded alleys, 

Labor early, late take rest, — 
Leave the plough, and leave the loom ; 
Meet us at our Saviour's tomb. 

From your halls of stately beauty. 
Sculptured roof and marble floor, 

In this work of Christian duty 
Haste, ye rich, and join, ye poor: 

Mean and noble, bond and free, 

Meet in frank equality. 

Lo, His grave ! — the gray rock closes 
O'er that virgin burial-ground : 

Near it breathe the garden-roses ; 
Trees funereal droop around, 

In whose boughs the small birds rest. 

And the stock-dove builds her nest. 

And the morn with floods of splendor 
Fills the spicy midnight air ; 

Tranquil sounds, and voices tender, 
Speak of light and gladness there : 



ALL IS O'ER; THE PAIN, THE SORROW. 24 1 

Ne'er was living thing, I wot, 
Which our Lord regarded not. 

Bird, and beast, and insect rover. 

E'en the lilies of the field, 
Till His gentle life was over, 

Heavenly thought to Him could yield : 
All that is, to Him did prove 
Food for wisdom, food for love. 

But the hearts that bowed before Him 
Most of all to Him were dear : 

Let such hearts to-night watch o'er Him 
Till the dayspring shall appear ; 

Then a brighter sun shall rise 

Than e'er kindled up the skies. 

All night long, with plaintive voicing, 
Chant His requiem soft and low ; 

Loftier strains of loud rejoicing 

From to-morrow's harps shall flow : — 

" Death and hell at length are slain ; 

Christ hath triumphed, Christ doth reign." 



242 'TWAS NIGHT! STILL NIGHT! 



'Etoas iJ^igSt! .Still Wisfjt! 

By John Henry Newman, D.D., born in London in 1801 ; gradu- 
ated at Oxford in 1820; tutor of his college for several years; incumbent 
of St. Mary's, Oxford, in 1828. He shared with Dr. Pusey the leader- 
ship of the High-Church party, and established a monastic community at 
Littlemore in 1842. He was the author of some of the most vigorous of 
the " Tracts for the Times," and exerted a powerful influence over the 
young men at Oxford. In October, 1845, he left the Established Church 
for the Roman-Catholic communion. From 1854 to 1858 he was Rector 
of the Roman-Catholic University in Dublin. He has written consider- 
able prose on ecclesiastical and controversial subjects, and one or two 
volumes of verse. 

[WAS night ! still night ! 
A solemn silence hung upon the 
scene ; 

The keen bright stars shone with unclouded 
light, 
Calm and serene. 

Hushed was the Tomb ; 
The heavy stone before its entrance lay : 
No light broke in upon its silent gloom. 

No starry ray. 

The moonlight beamed; 
It hung above that garden soft and clear : 
Around the watchful guard its radiance 
gleamed 

From helm and spear. 




'TWAS NIGHT! STILL NIGHT! 243 

The Tomb was sealed : 
The watch patrolled before its entrance lone ; 
The bright night every passing step revealed ; 

None n eared the stone. 

Midnight had passed ; 
The stars their lustrous shining had decreased, 
And daybreak's earliest light was hastening 
fast 

In the pale east. 

The morning star, 
Last in the silent Heaven, withdrew its ray ; 
And the white dawn, spreading its spectre 
light, 

Foretold the day. 

An earthquake's shock 
Just at the break of morning shook the 

ground, 
And echoed from that rent and trembling 
rock 
With startling sound. 

The guards, amazed. 
Fell to the earth in wonder and affright ; 
And round the astonished spot in glory blazed 

A sudden Li^ht. 



244 'TWAS NIGHT! STILL NIGHT! 

An Angel there 
Descended from the tranquil sky : 
The glory of his presence filled the air 

Ail-radiantly. 

He rolled away 
From the still Sepulchre the massy stone ; 
And, watching silent till the risen day, 

He sat thereon. 

His garments white 
Shone like the snow in its unsullied sheen ; 
His face was like the lightning's gleaming 
light, 

Dazzlingly seen. 

All, all around 
Was silence and suspense and listening dread : 
The stirless watch lay prostrate on the ground. 

Hushed as the dead. 

At break of day 
The Saviour burst that Cavern's stillness 

deep, 
Rising in conquest from Death's shattered 
sway 
As from a sleep. 



HAIL, DAY OF JOYOUS REST! 245 

He rose in Power, 
In all the Strength of Godhead shining bright, 
Fresh as that hallowed Morning's dewy hour, 

Pure as its light. 

He rose as God, 
Rose as a mighty Victor strong to save, 
Breaking Death's silent chain and unseen rod 

There in the Grave. 

He rose on high, 
While Angels hung around on soaring wing, 
Wresting from the dark Grave its victory, 

From Death its sting. 



flail, ©ag of Sotjous Eestt 

By Henry Trend, D.D., bora at Devonport Sept. 14, 1804; edu- 
cated at Bristol and at the University of Giessen; for many years princi- 
pal of a grammar-school at Bridgewater; Curate of Cannington, and 
subsequently Minister of the Donative of Durleigh. The latter appoint- 
ment he held as late as 1869. He is the author of some rather free but 
very happy translations of old Latin hymns, and of some original hymns, 
contributed to Mr. Shipley's " Lyras," the " People's Hymnal," &c. The 
following is from the " Lyra Messianica." 

AIL, day of joyous rest. 

On which our Lord arose ! 
Now every Christian breath 
With sacred pleasure glows ; 




246 HAIL, DAY OF JOYOUS REST! 

And every Christian tongue should sing 
An Easter-song to Sion's King. 

Ah ! erst, on midnight ground, 

In sorrow He was found 

Bedewed with His own Blood, 

While crying unto God : 
Strange was that bitter agony 
He felt in thee, Gethsemane ! 

And on the mystic Cross 

He suffered wondrous loss ; 

Midst pain and foul disgrace 

His Father hid His face ; 
And earth and hell were active then 
To crush the Friend of friendless men. 

He died ; and Joseph's tomb 

Gave the predicted room 

To bury Him ; and there 

With stern and jealous care. 
To make it sure, they sealed the stone, 
And left Him with their guards alone. 

But all their craft and power 
Availed them not that hour : 
The appointed time was come, 
And forthwith from the tomb 



ARISE, MY SOUL, ARISE! 24/ 

He rose ; for, lo ! the astonished rock 
Was shivered as by earthquake-shock. 

Yes, Jesus left the grave, 

And took His life again ; 
And now He lives to save 

The dying sons of men : 
Let His triumphant praise be sung 
Through every land, by every tongue. 



Wixm, mg ^oul, arise! 

By Mrs. Sarah Flower Adams, who was born in Cambridge Feb. 
22, 1805 ; and died Aug. 13, 1849. She was the daughter of an editor, and 
the wife of William Bridges Adams, an eminent engineer, and contributor 
to journals and reviews. She contributed prose and poetry to the periodi- 
cals, and published a dramatic poem, but is most widely known by her 
hymns, and particularly by that one beginning, " Nearer, my God, to 
Thee," which has become the property of the Church universal. 



RISE, 

My soul, arise ! 
Sing, with thy latest breath, 
Christ's conquest over death. 
Arise, 
My soul, arise ! 
Sing it unto the skies ; 
Sing it over the earth, and under ; 




248 ARISE, MY SOUL, ARISE 1 

There, 'mongst the myriad graves 
Of kings or slaves, 
Let the song pierce their urns asunder. 
Arise, 
Our souls, arise ! 
In heaven the angel-band 
Stand ready, — in each hand 

A palm to wave ; 
On earth a listening throng 
Wait the redeeming song, 

Their souls to save ; 
Below, all silently. 
The dead attend the cry : 
O grave ! 
Where is thy victory ? 
The branches wave ; 
Our Lord hath risen on high ! 

O death ! 
Where is thy sting ? 
The dust beneath 
Stirs while we sing. 
O grave ! where is thy victory ? 
O death ! where is thy sting ! 
Arise, 
Our souls, arise ! 




TO HIM WHO FOR OUR SINS WAS SLAIA^. 249 



Ed f^im ixifjo for our Sins bjas slain. 

By Arthur Tozer Russell, born at Northampton March 20, 1806; 
graduated at Cambridge; ordained priest in 1830 ; appointed Vicar of 
Caxton in the same year; and afterward incumbent of the vicarages of 
Whaddon, of Toxteth Park, near Liverpool, and of WelHngton, Salop. 
He has written and edited several volumes of hymns, and has also pub- 
lished several books of sermons and essays. 



O Him who for our sins was slain, 
To Him, for all His dying pain, 
Sinof we Alleluia ! 



To Him the Lamb our Sacrifice, 
Who gave His blood our ransom-price. 
Sing we Alleluia ! 

To Him who died that we might die 
To sin, and live with Him on high, 

Sing we Alleluia ! 

To Him who rose that we might rise, 
And reign with Him beyond the skies, 
Sing we Alleluia ! 

To Him who now for us doth plead. 
And helpeth us in all our need, 

Sins: we Alleluia ! 



250 IN THE TOMB, BEHOLD, HE LIES. 

To Him who doth prepare on high 
Our home in immortaUty, 

Sing we Alleluia ! 

To Him be glory evermore ; 
Ye heavenly hosts, your Lord adore : 
Sing we Alleluia ! 

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
Our God most great, our joy, our boast, 
Sing we Alleluia ! 



3fn tf}e ^om&, bejjoltr, He lies. 

By Arthur Tozer Russell. — See note to preceding. 

N the tomb, behold. He lies 
Who the dead awaketh : 
Christ, our stricken sacriiice. 
Of sweet rest partaketh. 

Fear we, then, no more the gloom 
Of Death's narrow dwelling : 

Jesus died ! the wondering tomb 
Of His praise is telling. 

Vainly shall His foes rejoice. 
Vainly Death detain Him : 




IN THY GLORIOUS RESURRECTION. 25 I 

Lazarus heard His wakening voice : 
What can, then, restrain Him ? 

What shall bind His conquering arm 
Who the mountains rendeth. 

And, that He may Death disarm, 
To the tomb descendeth ? 



In ^i}2 flio^^ows i^csurrection. 



By Bishop Christopher Wordsworth, bom in 1807; graduated at 
Trinity College, Cambridge, with high honors, in 1830; received priest's 
orders in 1835; head master of Harrow School in 1836; Canon of West- 
minster Abbey in 1844; Vicar of Stanford-in-the-Vale, Berks, in 1850; 
Archdeacon of Westminster in 1S65; Bishop of Lincoln in 1868. He has 
written much in prose, and has published a volume of hymns, entitled 
" Holy Year," from which the following is taken. He is a nephew of 
William Wordsworth. 




N Thy glorious Resurrection, 
Lord, we see a world's erection ; 
Man in Thee is glorified : 
Bliss for which the Patriarchs panted, 
Joys by ancient sages chanted, 
Now in Thee are verified. 

Qracles of former ages. 
Veiled in dim prophetic pages, 
Now lie open to the sight ; 



252 IN THY GLORIOUS RESURRECTION. 

Now the Types, which ghmmered darkling 
In the twihght gloom, are sparkling 
In the blaze of noonday light. 

Isaac from the wood is risen ; 
Joseph issues from the prison ; 

See the Paschal Lamb which saves ; 
Israel through the sea is landed ; 
Pharaoh and his hosts are stranded, 

And o'erwhelmed in the waves. 

See the cloudy Pillar leading, 
Rock refreshing, Manna feeding ; 

Joshua fights, and Moses prays : 
See the lifted wave-sheaf, cheering, — 
Pledge of Harvest-fruits appearing, 

Joyful dawn of happy days. 

Samson see at night uptearing 
Gaza's brazen gates, and bearing 

To the top of Hebron's hill ; 
Jonah comes from stormy surges. 
From his three-days' grave emerges. 

Bids beware of coming ill. 

Thus Thy Resurrection glory 
Sheds a light on ancient story ; 
And it casts a forward ray, — 



IN THY GLORIOUS RESURRECTION. 253 

Beacon-light of solemn warning, 
To the dawn of that great morning, 
Ushering in the Judgment-Day. 

Ever since Thy death and rising, 
Thou the nations art baptizing 

In Thy death's similitude : 
Dead to sin, and ever dying. 
And our members mortifying. 

May we walk with life renewed ! 

Forth from Thy first Easter going, 
Sundays are forever flowing 

Onward to a boundless sea : 
Lord, may they for Thee prepare us. 
On a holy river bear us 

To a calm eternity ! 

Glory be to God the Father ; 
And to Him who all does gather 

In Himself, the Eternal Son, 
And the dead to life upraises ; 
And to Holy Ghost be praises : 

Glory to the Three in One ! 



254 THE TOMB IS EMPTY. 



Efje ®:om& \% lEmptg : bjoultist tjjou ftabe 
ttiull? 

By HoRATius BoNAR, D.D., born at Edinburgh in 1808. He gradu- 
ated at the University of Edinburgh, and was ordained to the ministry in 
1837, and since that time has been pastor at Kelso. He joined the Free 
Church of Scotland in 1843. He is the author of numerous prose works 
of a devotional character, and of three series of " Hymns of Faith and 
Hope." 

|HE tomb is empty : wouldst thou 
have it full, 
Still sadly clasping the unbreathing 
clay .'' 
O weak in faith, O slow of heart, and dull, . 
To dote on darkness, and shut out the day ! 

The tomb is empty : He who three short days. 
After a sorrowing life's long weariness, 
Found refuge in this rocky resting-place, 
Has now ascended to the throne of bliss. 

Here lay the Holy One, the Christ of God ; 
He who for death gave death, and life for life ; 
Our heavenly Kinsman, our true flesh and 

blood ; 
Victor for us on hell's dark field of strife. 




THE TOMB IS EMPTY. 255 

This was the Bethel, where, on stony bed. 
While angels came and went from morn till 

even. 
Our truer Jacob laid his wearied head : 
This was to him the very gate of heaven. 

The Conqueror, not the conquered, He to 

whom 
The keys of death and of the grave belong. 
Crossed the cold threshold of the stranger's 

tomb. 
To spoil the spoiler, and to bind the strong. 

Here Death had reigned : into no tomb like 

this 
Had man's fell foe aforetime found his way ; 
So grand a trophy ne'er before was his, 
So vast a treasure, so divine a prey. 

But no : his triumph ends ; the rock-barred 

door 
la opened wide, and the Great Prisoner gone : 
Look round and see, upon the vacant floor. 
The napkin and the grave-clothes lie alone. 

Yes : Death's last hope, his strongest fort 

and prison, 
Is shattered, never to be built again ; 



256 THE TOMB IS EMPTY, 

And He, the mighty Captive, He is risen, 
Leaving behind the gate, the bar, the chain. 

Yes, He is risen who is the First and Last ; 
Who was and is ; who liveth, and was dead : 
Beyond the reach of death He now has passed, 
Of the one glorious Church the glorious Head. 

The tomb is empty : so, ere long, shall be 
The tombs of all who in this Christ repose : 
They died with Him who died upon the tree ; 
They live and rise with Him who lived and 
rose. 

Death has not slain them ; they are freed, not 

slain ; 
It is the gate of life, and not of death. 
That they have entered ; and the grave in 

vain 
Has tried to stifle the immortal breath. 

All that was death in them is now dissolved ; 
For death can only what is death's destroy ; 
And, when this earth's short ages have re- 
volved. 
The disimprisoned life comes forth with joy. 

Their life-long battle with disease and pain 
And mortal weariness is over now : 



THE CALM OF BLESSED NIGHT. 257 

Youth, health, and comeliness return again ; 
The tear has left the cheek, the sweat the 
brow. 

They are not tasting death, but taking rest 
On the same holy couch where Jesus lay. 
Soon to awake all glorified and blest, 
When day has broke, and shadows fled away. 



V^z Calm of blcsscti Nigfjt 



By Henry Alford, D.D., late Dean of Canterbury, who was bom 
in London in i8io, and died Jan. 12, 1S71. He graduated at Trinity Col- 
lege, Cambridge, and won a high reputation as a sound and eloquent 
preacher, and a biblical critic. He was appointed Dean of Canterbury 
in 1857. He published several volumes of sermons, a volume of essays 
on the Greek Poets, and two volumes of poetry. He edited a hymnal 
called "The Year of Praise," to which he contributed fifty-five hymns. 
The great work of his life was the Greek Testament, with Notes, and the 
New Testament for English Readers, — which are among the most valua- 
ble products of biblical scholarship. 



'HE calm of blessed Night 
Is on Judaea's hills ; 
The full-orbed moon with cloudless 
light 
Is sparkling on their rills : 
One spot above the rest 

Is still and tranquil seen, — 




258 THE CALM OF BLESSED NIGHT. 

The chamber as of something blest 
Amidst its bowers of green. 

Around that spot each way 

The figures ye may trace 
Of men-at-arms in grim array, 

Girding the solemn place : 
But other bands are there ; 

And, ghstening through the gloom, 
Legions of angels, bright and fair, 

Throng to that wondrous tomb. 

" Praise be to God on high ! 

The triumph-hour is near ; 
The Lord hath won the victory ; 

The foe is vanquished here ! 
Dark Grave, yield up the dead ! 

Give up thy prey, thou Earth ! 
In death He bowed His sacred head ; 

He springs anew to birth ! 

Sharp was the wreath of thorns 

Around His suffering brow ; 
But glory rich His head adorns, 

And Angels crown Him now. 
Roll yonder rock away 

That bars the marble gate, 
And gather we in bright array 

To swell the Victor's state. 



CHRIST IS RISEN! ALLELUIA! 259 

Hail, hail, hail ! 

The Lord is risen indeed ! 
The curse is made of none avail : 

The sons of men are freed ! " 



Cfjrtst tg risrn! Alleluia! 



By John S. B. Monsell, bom at Derry in 1811. His father was 
Archdeacon of Derry, and Precentor of Christ-Church Cathedral. The 
son graduated at Trinity College, Dublin, in 1832; was ordained deacon 
in 1834, and priest in the year following. He was for a time Rector of 
Ramoan, and Chancellor of the diocese of Connor; but since 1853 has 
been Vicar of Egham. He has written much in prose and verse; and his 
" Hymns of Love and Praiee for the Christian Year," from which the 
following is taken, are deservedly popular. 



HRIST is risen ! Alleluia ! 
Risen our victorious Head ! 
Sing His praises ! Alleluia ! 
Christ is risen from the dead ! 
Gratefully our hearts adore Him, 

As His light once more appears, 
Bowing down in joy before Him, 
Rising up from grief and tears. 
Christ is risen ! Alleluia ! 

Risen our victorious Head ! 
Sing his praises ! Alleluia ! 
Christ is risen from the dead ! 




260 CHRIST IS RISEN! ALLELUIA! 

Christ is risen ! all the sadness 

Of our Lenten fast is o'er ; 
Through the open gates of gladness 

He returns to life once more : 
Death and hell before Him bending, 

He doth rise the victor now, 
Angels on His steps attending. 

Glory round His wounded brow. 
Christ is risen ! Alleluia ! 

Christ is risen ! all the sorrow 

That last evening round Him lay 
Now hath found a glorious morrow 

In the rising of to-day ; 
And the grave its first-fruits giveth, 

Springing up from holy ground : 
He was dead, but now He liveth ; 

He was lost, but He is found. 
Christ is risen ! Alleluia ! 

Christ is risen ! henceforth never 

Death or hell shall us inthrall ; 
Be we Christ's, in Him forever 

We have triumphed over all ; 
All the doubting and dejection 

Of our trembling hearts have ceased 
'Tis His day of resurrection ; 

Let us rise, and keep the feast. 



AJVAA'E, GLAD SOULt 26 1 

Christ is risen ! Alleluia ! 

Risen our victorious Head ! 
Sing His praises ! Alleluia ! 

Christ is risen from the dead ! 



^toakc, ffilati <Soul! atoaftel abiafte! 

By Rev. John S. B. Monsell. — See note to the preceding hymn. 
From his " Hymns of Love and Praise." 

WAKE, glad soul ! awake ! awake ! 
Thy Lord hath risen long : 
Go to His grave, and with thee take 
Both tuneful heart and song : 
Where life is waking all around, 

Where love's sweet voices sing, 
The first bright Blossom may be found 
Of an Eternal Spring. 

O Love which lightens all distress, 

Love death cannot destroy ! 
O Grave, whose very emptiness 

To Faith is full of joy ! 
Let but that Love our hearts supply 

From Heaven's exhaustless Spring, 
Then, Grave, where is thy victory .-' 

And, Death, where is thy sting ? 




262 AWAKE, GLAD SOUL! 

The shade and gloom of life are fled 

This Resurrection-day ; 
Henceforth in Christ are no more dead, 

The grave hath no more prey : 
In Christ we live, in Christ we sleep, 

In Christ we wake and rise ; 
And the sad tears death makes us weep 

He wipes from all our eyes. 

And every bird and every tree, 

And every opening flower. 
Proclaim His glorious victory. 

His resurrection-power : 
The folds are glad ; the fields rejoice, 

With vernal verdure spread ; 
The little hills lift up their voice, 

And shout that Death is dead. 

Then wake, glad heart ! awake ! awake ! 

And seek thy risen Lord, 
Joy in His resurrection take, 

And comfort in His word : 
And let thy life, through all its ways, 

One long thanksgiving be ; 
Its theme of joy, its song of praise, — 

" Christ died and rose for me." 



ALL HAIL! DEAR CONQUEROR ! 263 



^11 ijail! ©car Conqueror! all !)ail! 

By Frederick William Faber, D.D., bom June 28, 1814; died 
Sept. 26, 1863. He was the author of some of the most fervent and 
beautiful hymns in the language. He graduated at Oxford in 1836, and 
was for several years a college tutor and fellow. He was ordained priest 
in 1839. I"^ ^^43 he became Rector at Elton, in Huntingdonshire; and 
two years later, after a long mental struggle, he joined the Roman-Catho- 
lic Church. In 1849 he established the Brotherhood of the London 
"Oratorians; " which was removed in 1854 to Brompton, at which place 
Faber resided until his death. The list of his works includes several 
books in prose, of a devotional order, sermons, etc., and five volumes of 
poetry, mostly religious. There is an American edition of his hymns, 
collected from these volumes. 



LL hail ! clear Conqueror ! all hail ! 
Oh, what a victory is Thine ! 
How beautiful Thy Strength appears ! 
Thy crimson Wounds, how bright 
they shine ! 



Down, down, all lofty things on earth, 
And worship Him with joyous dread ! 

O Sin ! thou art outdone by love ! 
O Death ! thou art discomfited ! 

Ye Heavens, how sang they in your courts, 
How sang the angelic choir that day, 

When from His tomb the imprisoned God, 
Like the strong sunrise, broke away ? 




264 JESUS! IN SPICES WRAPPED. 

Oh ! I am burning so with love, 
I fear lest I should make too free : 

Let me be silent, and adore 
Thy glorified Humanity. 

Ah ! now Thou sendest me sweet tears : 
Fluttered with love, my spirits fail. 

What shall I say ? Thou knowest my heart. 
All hail ! dear Conqueror ! all hail ! 



%tm%\ in Spices bjrappeti, anti lattr. 



By Frederick William Faber, D.D. — See note to the preceding 
hymn. The following is from the poem on " The Life of Our Lord," 
being a portion of the fifth section, which relates " what was done after 
His death, burial, resurrection, ascension, session, and second advent." 



|ESUS ! in spices wrapped, and laid 
Within the garden's rocky shade, 
By jealous seals made sure, 
Embalm me with Thy grace, and hide 
Thy servant in Thy wounded Side, 
A heavenly sepulture ! 

Jesus ! who to the spirits went 
And preached the new enfranchisement 
Thy recent death had won, 




JESUS! IN SPICES WRAPPED. 265 

Absolve me, Lord ! and set me free 
From self and sin, that I may be 
Bondsman to Thee alone. 

Jesus ! who from the dead arose, 

And straightway sought to comfort those 

Whose weak faith mourned for Thee, 
Oh, may I rise from sin and earth. 
And so make good that second birth 

Which Thou hast wrought in me ! 

Jesus ! who wert at Emmaus known 
In breaking bread, and thus art shown 

Unto Thy people now, 
Oh, may my heart within me burn 
When at the Altar I discern 

Thy Body, Lord, and bow ! 

Jesus ! amid yon olives hoar. 
Thy forty days of sojourn o'er. 

Thou didst ascend on high : 
Oh, thither may my heart and mind 
Ascend, their home and harbor find. 

With Jesus in the sky ! 



266 SABBATH OF THE SAINTS OF OLD. 



^abbati) of tje .^amts of ©Iti* 



By Rev. Thomas Whytehead, bom at Thormanby, York, in 1815; 
died in'New Zealand in 1842. He graduated at Cambridge, and among 
his university honors was the chancellor's medal for English verse. He 
was appointed chaplain to the Bishop of New Zealand, but died soon 
after reaching his post. The following hymn is abridged and altered by 
the compilers of " Hymns Ancient and Modern." The complete hymn 
as given below is contained in Mrs. Alexander's " Sunday Book of 
Poetry." 




ABBATH of the saints of old, 
Day of mysteries manifold, 
By the great Creator blest, 
Type of His eternal rest, 
I with thoughts of thee would seek 
To sanctify the closing week. 

Resting from His work, the Lord 
Spake to-day the hallowing word ; 
And, His wondrous labors done. 
Now the everlasting Son 
Gave to heaven and earth the sign 
Of a wonder more divine. 

Resting from His work to-day, 
In the tomb the Saviour lay ; 



SABBATH OF THE SAINTS OF OLD. 267 

His sacred form, from head to feet, 
Swathed in the winding-sheet. 
Lying in the rock alone, 
Hid beneath the sealed stone. 

All the seventh day long, I ween, 
Mournful watched the Magdalene, 
Rising early, resting late. 
By the sepulchre to wait. 
In the holy garden glade, 
Where her buried Lord was laid. 

So with Thee, till life shall end, 
I would solemn vigil spend : 
Let me hew Thee, Lord, a shrine 
In this rocky heart of mine. 
Where, in pure embalmed cell, 
None but Thou mayst ever dwell. 

Myrrh and spices I will bring. 
My poor affection's offering, 
Close the door from sight and sound 
Of the busy world around. 
And in patient watch remain 
Till my Lord appear again. 

Then, the new creation done, 
Shall be Thy endless rest begun : 



268 WHAT SAID HE, MARY, UNTO THEE? 

Jesii, keep me safe from sin, 
That I with them may enter in, 
And danger past, and toil at end, 
To Thy resting-place ascend. 



lijat saiU ^e, Jlarg, unto t}jee?** 



By Dora Greenwell, who was born early in the present century. 
She is the author of several volumes of verse, among them " Christina 
and Other Poems," " Stories That Might be True," and " Carmina 
Crucis," from the last of which the following is taken. She has written 
also one or two books of essays. 




HAT said He, Mary, unto thee .-' 
For it was thine His voice to hear, 
When thou wert waiting in the gloom 
Of twilight dawn, and by the tomb : 
He talked with thee when none were near. 
Oh, happy thus thy Lord to see ! 
What said He, Mary, unto thee } " 

" Few words He said to me : I hide 
Each word He said within my heart. 
Fain had I won Him to abide ; 
Yet soon I knew that I must part 
With Him, my Master, Lord, and Guide. 
I met His eye ; His voice I heard ; 
I saw His wounded hands and feet : 



WHAT SAID HE, MAKY, UNTO THEE? 269 

He called me by my name ; no word 
Was ever to my soul so sweet ; 
And by His tomb He bade me stay 
Until the breaking of the day ! " 

" But see, the hills are all aglow ! 

The sunrise cleaves its path of gold 

Through many a darkened valley low, 

And fires the mountain summits cold. 

What flowers unclose ! what herbs of price ! 

What costly gums for sacrifice 

Are dropping now ! " — ''The hills are high : 

I cannot reach them, lest I die ; 

And by His cross He bade me dwell 

Until the evening shadows fell." 

" Yet rise ; thy Lord hath risen ! Behold, 

From Hades now He bears away 

The gates, and snatches from the hold 

Of death and sin a mighty prey : 

His soul hath passed afar ! to Him 

The darkness shines as doth the day. 

Why linger 'mid the shadows dim } 

Why watch the place where Jesus lay } " 

" Beside His tomb, beside His cross, 
He bade me rest ! Ye speak in vain, 
Who have not known my gain nor loss. 
The Master's words are kind and plain : 



270 WHAT SAID HE, MARY, UNTO THEE I 

He calls the wounded not to pain, 
The weary unto conflict sore ; 
He bids the wayworn not again 
Retrace their fruitless wanderings o'er. 
He led me to this place ! He knew 
My soul upon the burning plain 
Where riseth from the earth no dew, 
Where falleth from the heavens no rain ; 
He tracked my steps 'mid forests old 
And tangled, where the flowers awake 
In torrid midnight gloom, and hold 
Death's revel in the jungle-brake ; 
Yea ! He hath known my soul in cold, 
The deadly frost that none can bide ; 
The formless vapors, white and dim. 
Became my shroud, and yet from Him 
Concealed me not ! Whate'er betide, 
I clasp the cross ! The earth is wide 
And drear and old ; the heavens are far ! 
For guide to me He gave no star ; 
But near His cross He bade me stay 
Until the shadows fled away. 

" To me He said not, ' Thou shalt rise 
With Me, thy risen Lord, this day. 
And be with Me in Paradise : ' 
Beside the cross He bade me stay. 
He met me in the garden's gloom ; 



THE FOE BEHIND, THE DEEP BEFORE. 27 1 

But to that garden sweet and dim, 
Or through its angel-guarded gate, 
He sent me not. I wait for Him 
Beside His cross, beside His tomb ; 
I wait for Him, my soul doth wait. 
And by the cross I will abide, 
And keep the word my Lord hath given. 
Except the cross, and Him who died 
Upon it, now m. earth or heaven 
What own I, claim I ? Now below 
I seek no further ; here is woe 
Assuaged forever : now above 
I look no longer ; here is love ! " 



Efte JFoe ijcfjintr, tfje JBerp before* 

By John Mason Neale, D.D., born in 1818; graduated at Trinity- 
College, Cambridge, in 1840; died Aug. 8, 1866. He was early elected 
warden of Sackville College, and retained that position to the date of his 
death. He was the author of several important historical works; of three 
or four books of fiction, now forgotten; of some original hymns, of which 
the following is the most noteworthy ; and of some beautiful translations 
from the media:val Latin, and the Greek, which are perhaps the richest 
legacy to the Christian Church that any translator has left. The " Lyra 
Britannica" contains the following hymn, with six additional stanzas; but, 
as these are greatly inferior to the portion here given, it has seemed best 
to present the hymn in its usual form. 

'HE foe behind, the deep before, 
Our hosts have dared and passed 
the sea ; 




2/2 THE FOE BEHIND, THE DEEP BEFORE. 

And Pharaoh's warriors strew the shore, 
And Israel's ransomed tribes are free. 
Lift up, Hft up your voices now ! 
The whole wide world rejoices now ! 
The Lord hath triumphed gloriously ! 
The Lord shall reign victoriously ! 
Happy morrow. 
Turning sorrow 
Into peace and mirth ! 
Bondage ending. 
Love descending 
O'er the earth ! 
Seals assuring. 
Guards securing, 
Watch His earthly prison : 
Seals are shattered. 
Guards are scattered, 
Christ hath risen ! 



No longer must the mourners weep, 
Nor call departed Christians dead ; 
For death is hallowed into sleep, 
And every grave becomes a bed. 

Now once more 

Eden's door 
Open stands to mortal eyes ; 
For Christ hath risen, and men shall rise. 



THE FOE BEHIND, THE^DEEP BEFORE. 2/3 

Now at last, 

Old things past, 
Hope and joy and peace begin ; 
For Christ hath won, and man shall win. 

It is not exile, rest on high ; 
It is not sadness, peace from strife ; 
To fall asleep is not to die ; 
To dwell with Christ is better life. 
Where our banner leads us 

We may safely go ; 
Where our Chief precedes us 

We may face the foe. 
His right arm is o'er us ; 

He will guide us through. 
Christ hath gone before us : 
Christians, follow you ! 



274 SEE THE LAND, HER EASTER KEEPING. 



%u tfte ilantr, fjer lEaster {teeping* 

By Charles Kingsley, preacher, poet, novelist, and reformer. He 
was born June 12, 1819, at Holne Vicarage, Devonshire; and died Jan. 23, 
1875. He graduated with honor at Cambridge in 1842; was ordained 
deacon in July of the same year, and was settled at Eversley, in Hamp- 
shire ; which place continued to be his home for the remainder of his life. 
A sturdy physical nature, an active mind, a strong and buoyant faith, 
sympathies warm and deep, and an indomitable and fearless hatred of op- 
pression in every form, made him a power for good wherever his voice 
was heard, or his writings read. To him, popularity was of less account 
than principle ; and, both in his novels and his poetry, artistic effect was 
often sacrificed to the vehemence and passion with which he championed 
the cause of the weak against the strong. 

EE the land, her Easter keeping, 
Rises as her Maker rose ; 
Seeds so long in darkness sleeping 
Burst at last from winter snows. 
Earth with heaven above rejoices; 

Fields and gardens hail the spring ; 

Shaiighs and woodlands ring with voices, 

While the wild birds build and sing. 

You, to whom your Maker granted 

Powers to those sweet birds unknown. 
Use the craft by God implanted, — 

Use the reason not your own. 
Here, while heaven and earth rejoices, 

Each his Easter tribute bring, — 
Work of fingers, chant of voices, 

Like the birds who build and sing. 




HE IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN! 2/5 



W is rtsm! W ts risen! 

By Mrs. Cecil Frances Alexander, wife of Rev. William Alex- 
ander, now Bishop of Derry. She is the daughter of Major Humphreys of 
Strabane, Ireland; and was married in 1850. She has published several 
books of hymns, and one admirable collection called " The Sunday Book 
of Poetry." The poem entitled " The Burial of Moses " is the most famil- 
iar of her pieces. Her husband, also, has written several volumes of 
prose and poetry. 




E is risen ! He is risen ! 

Tell it with a joyful voice : 
He has burst His three-days' prison : 
Let the whole wide earth rejoice ! 
Death is vanquished, man is free ; 
Christ has won the victory ! 

Tell it to the sinners, weeping 

Over deeds in darkness done, 
Weary fast and vigil keeping : 

Brightly breaks their Easter sun. 
Christ has borne our sins away ; 
Christ has conquered hell to-day. 

He is risen ! He is risen ! 

He has oped the eternal gate : 
We are loosed from sin's dark prison, 

Risen to a holier state, 
Where a brightening Easter beam 
On our longing eye shall stream. 



276 PAIN AND TOIL ARE OVER NOW. 



^ain anti ^oil are ober noto* 

By Mrs. Cecil Frances Alexander. — See note to the preceding 
hymn. The following version — abridged, and somewhat altered from 
the original — is included in the Episcopal Hymnal. The original has 
six six-line verses, and may be found in Mrs. Alexander's " Verses for 
Holy Seasons." 

IAIN and toil are over now : 

Bring the spice, and bring the 
myrrh, 

Fold the limb, and bind the brow, 
In the rich man's sepulchre. 

Sin has bruised the Victor's heel : 
Roll the stone, and guard it well ; 

Bring the Roman's boasted seal, 
Bring his boldest sentinel. 

Yet the morning's purple ray 
Shall present a glorious sight, — 

Stone by earthquake rolled away, 
Angel guard all robed in white. 




IT IS THE NOON OF NIGHT. 277 



It i% tfte Noon of Ntgijt* 

By Miss Jean Ingelow, who was born in Boston, England, in 1830, 
and is now living in London. Her life was quiet and uneventful until 
1863, when she published a volume of poems, which attracted instant 
attention by the sweetness and beauty of its contents, and won for its 
author a place among the foremost contemporary singers. Since that 
time she has published two or three volumes of poetry, several books for 
children, and two novels. She e.xhibits in her life the tenderness, gentle- 
ness, and charity which find expression in her verse, and is widely and 
justly beloved. The following verses are a part of a long poem on the 
Night of Christ's Resurrection, which the author wrote " in humble imita- 
tion" of Milton's majestic Hymn on the Nativity. 

T is the noon of night ; 
And, the world's Great Light 
Gone out, she widow-Hke doth carry 
her : 
The moon hath veiled her face, 
Nor looks on that dread place 
Where He lieth dead in sealed sepulchre ; 
And Heaven and Hades, emptied, lend 
Their flocking multitudes to watch and wait 
the end. 

Tier above tier they rise ; 
Their wings new line the skies, 
And shed out comforting light among the 
stars : 




2/8 IT IS THE NOON OF NIGHT. 

But they of the other place 

The heavenly signs deface ; 
The gloomy brand of hell their brightness 

mars : 
Yet high they sit, in throned state : 
It is the hour of darkness to them dedicate. 

Last, with amazed cry. 

The hosts asunder fly, 
Leaving an empty gulf of blackest hue ; 

Whence straightway shooteth down, 

By the Great Father thrown, 
A mighty angel, strong and dread to view ; 
And at his fall the rocks are rent. 
The waiting world doth quake with mortal 
tremblement ; 

The regions far and near 

Quail, with a pause of fear 
More terrible than aught since time began ; 

The winds, that dare not fleet, 

Drop at his awful feet, 
And in its bed wails the wide ocean ; 
The flower of dawn forbears to blow. 
And the oldest running river cannot skill to 
flow. 

At stand, by that dread place. 
He lifts his radiant face, 



IT IS THE NOON OF NIGHT. 279 

And looks to heaven with reverent love and 
fear ; 
Then, while the welkin quakes, 
And muttering thunder breaks, 
And lightnings shoot, and ominous meteors 

drear, 
And all the daunted earth doth moan, 
He from the doors of death rolls back the 
sealed stone. 

— In regal quiet deep, 

Lo ! One new waked from sleep ! 
Behold, He standeth in the rock-hewn door! 

Thy children shall not die ; 

Peace, peace ! thy Lord is by ! 
He liveth ! they shall live forevermore. 
Peace ! Lo ! He lifts a priestly hand. 
And blesseth all the sons of men in every 
land ! 

Then, with great dread and wail, 

Fall down, like storms of hail, 
The legions of the lost, in fearful wise ; 

And they whose blissful race 

Peoples the better place 
Lift up their wings to cover their fair eyes. 
And through the waxing saffron brede, 
Till they are lost in light, recede, and yet 
recede. 



280 IT IS THE NOON OF NIGHT. 

So, while the fields are dim, 

And the red sun his rim 
First heaves, in token of his reign benign, 

All stars the most admired, 

Into their blue retired, 
Lie hid ; the faded moon forgets to shine ; 
And, hurrying down the sphery way. 
Night flies, and sweeps her shadow from the 
paths of Day. 

But look ! the Saviour blest. 

Calm after solemn rest. 
Stands in the garden, 'neath His olive- 
boughs ; 

The earliest smile of day 

Doth on His vesture play. 
And light the majesty of His still brows ; 
While angels hang, with wings outspread, 
Holding the new-won crown above His 
saintly head. 



/ HAVE NO WIT, NO WORDS, NO TEARS. 28 1 



K l)abe no WX\, tto SEortig, no ^cars. 



By Christina Georgina Rossetti, who was bom in London Decem- 
ber, 1830, and is now living there. She is the author of several volumes 
of poems, " Goblin Market," " The Prince's Progress," &c., a book of 
nursery rhymes entitled " Sing-Song," and a book in prose, " Common- 
Place and other Short Stories. " 




HAVE no wit, no words, no tears ; 
My heart within me like a stone 
Is numbed too much for hopes 
or fears : 
Look right, look left, I ..dwell alone, 
I lift my eyes, but, dimmed with grief, 

No everlasting hills I see : 
My life is in the falling leaf : 
O Jesus, quicken me ! 

My life is like a faded leaf. 

My harvest dwindled to a husk : 
Truly my life is void and brief. 

And tedious in the barren dusk : 
My life is like a frozen thing, 

No bud nor greenness can I see ; 
Yet rise it shall, — the sap of spring : 

O Jesus, rise in me ! 



282 HE COMES! HE COMES! 

My life is like a broken bowl, — 

A broken bowl, that cannot hold 
One drop of water for my soul. 

Or cordial in the searching cold. 
Cast in the fire the perished thing ; 

Melt and remould it, till it be 
A royal cup for Him, my King : 

O Jesus, drink of me ! 



\t comes! He comes! 



By Gerard Moultrie, in " Lyra Messianica." Mr. Moultrie is the 
son of another poet, Rev. John Moultrie. He was born about 1830; gradu- 
ated at 0.xford in 1851; was ordained deacon in 1852, and priest in 1858. 
He taught at Shrewsbury and elsewhere from 1852 to 1864, and in the last- 
named year became incumbent of Barrow Gurney, Bristol. He was ap- 
pointed Vicar of South Leigh, near O.xford, in 1868. He is the author of 
a volume of " Hymns and Lyrics; " and was one of the editors of the 
" People's Hymnal," to which he contributed thirty-five pieces. 




E comes ! He comes ! the tomb 
Quickens her pregnant womb, 
And life and light spring forth in 

mystic birth. 
The garden flowers exhale 
Scents on the morning gale. 
Heaven gives her Angel-guard ; her incense, 
earth. 



HE COMES! HE COMES! 283 

The Grave is swallowed up, and Death must 

die. 
Where is thy sting, O Death ? where. Grave, 

thy victory ? 

Fling wide, deep Hell, thy door, 
The Lord of Hosts before ! 
He bears the blossom of the budding wood. 
The lily sprouts to thee 
Her graft upon the tree ; 
The Cross is quickened from the living Blood. 
Our Aaron bears His staff no longer dry : 
He smites thy sting, O Death ! stays, Grave, 
thy victory ! 

He comes ! He comes in might ! 
Triumphant o'er the night. 
In dread dismay exclaim the powers of Hell, — 
"We hailed Him as the dead : 
With Him our sway is fled ; 
The first-fruits of the sleepers breaks our 
spell. 
We hold the dead : He raises all ; for He 
Has drawn thy sting, O Death ! robbed. 
Grave, thy victory ! " 

Lift up your heads, ye Gates ! 
The King of Glory waits ; 



284 HE COMES! HE COMES! 

Awaits the emerald rainbow round His 
throne. 
One-half the ring is set 
On earth : the rest is met 
In plighted faith where earth and heaven are 
one. 
The Bride may lift the veil, her Lord to 

see : 
Where is thy sting, O Death ! O Grave, 
thy victory .'' 



He comes ! He comes ! once more : 
Roll back the golden door : 
The trumpet sounds : once more the Lord is 
come. 
In second Advent-tide 
He comes to claim the Bride, 
And bear the Faithful to their Heavenly home. 
There God shall wipe the tear from every 

eye : 
Where is thy sting, O Death .-' O Grave, 
thy victory } 



DEAR SAVIOUR OF A DYING WORLD. 285 



©car ^abtour of a ©ging SEorlti* 

By Miss Anna L.etitia Waring, a writer who, choosing to be known 
only by her hymns, has kept her name and the dates of her life out of the 
biographical dictionaries. She was born at Neath, South Wales. Her 
volume of " Hymns and Meditations," from which the following is taken, 
was first published in 1850; and many editions of it have been printed in 
England and America. Her hymns are deeply imbued with the spirit of 
Christianity, and are rich in thought and feeling. 




EAR Saviour of a dying world, 
Where grief and change must 
be, 

In the new grave where Thou 
w^ast laid 
My heart lies down with Thee ; 
Oh ! not in cold despair of joy, 

Or weariness of pain, 
But from a hope that shall not die, 
To rise and live again. 

I would arise in all Thy strength. 

My place on earth to fill, 
To work out all my time of war 

With love's unflinching will ; 
Firm against every doubt of Thee, 

For all my future way 
To walk in Heaven's eternal light 

Throughout the changing day ; 



286 DEAR SAVIOUR OF A DYING WORLD. 

Ah ! such a day as Thou shalt own 

When suns have ceased to shine, — 
A day of burdens borne by Thee, 

And work that all was Thine. 
Speed Thy bright rising in my heart, 

Thy righteous kingdom speed. 
Till my whole life in concord say, — 

"The Lord is risen indeed ! " 



Oh for an impulse from Thy love 

With every coming breath. 
To sing that sweet, undying song 

Amid the wrecks of death ! 
A " hail ! " to every mortal pang 

That bids me take my right 
To glory in the blessed life 

Which Thou hast brought to light ! 



I long to see the hallowed earth 

In new creation rise ; 
To find the germs of Eden, hid 

Where its fallen beauty lies ; 
To feel the spring-tide of a soul 

By one deep love set free, 
Made meet to lay aside her dust. 

And be at home with Thee, 



DEAR SAVIOUR OF A DYING WORLD. 287 

And then there shall be yet an end, — 

An end how full to bless ! 
How dear to those who watch for Thee 

With human tenderness! 
Then shall the saying come to pass 

That makes our home complete ; 
And, rising from the conquered grave, 

Thy parted ones shall meet. 



Yes, they shall meet, and, face to face, 

By heart to heart be known ; 
Clothed in Thy likeness. Lord of life, 

And perfect in their own. 
For this corruptible must rise, 

From its corruption free, 
And this frail mortal must put on 

Thine immortality. 



Shine, then, Thou Resurrection Light ! 

Upon our sorrows shine ! 
The fulness of Thy joy be ours, 

As all our griefs were Thine. 
Now, in this changing, dying life, 

Our faded hopes restore, 
Till, in Thy triumph perfected, 

We taste of death no more. 



THEY BOUND HIM WELL. 



^fjeg ftounti ^tm ixiell in tjje IBurtgeon 

An Easter carol, by Richard Frederic Littledale, D.C.L. — 
See the biographical notice prefixed to the hymn, " Our Paschal Joy at 
last is here." 




HEY bound him well in the dungeon 
cell, — 
His father's best-loved son ; 
And the iron dole into Joseph's soul 

Its bitter way hath won : 
But faith and truth have gained him ruth, 

And loosed the tyrant's chain ; 
And the exile lone to Egypt's throne 

From prison comes to reign. 
The Son of the Father, Almighty to save, 
Was laid for three days in the heart of the 

grave ; 
But the fetters which held Him no longer 

may bind, 
And He reigneth to-day over ransomed man- 
kind. 

He laid him down in Gaza town, — 

The forceful Nazarite ; 
And the heathen guard kept watch and ward 

To slay him at morning light ; 



THEY BOUND HhM WELL. 289 

But at midnight he rose from the midst of 
his foes, 
No longer would he stay ; 

And to Hebron's hill, of his own strong will, 
He carried their gates away. 

The Nazarene Captive, Whom Hell had in- 
snared, 

Around Whom the hosts of the Evil One 
glared. 

Hath gone from among them in conquering 
state. 

And broken in pieces their bars and their 
gate. 

Oh ! now His rolling chariot-wheels 

Lead bound captivity ; 
And, where His Presence He reveals, 

His people bow the knee. 
He takes to Him a priestly Bride ; 
And He Himself is glorified. 

And clad in white and gold : 
He sitteth on the royal seat, 
And all the nations at His Feet 

Lay tribute manifold. 

The riddle erewhile spoken 

May now be read with ease, — 



290 THEY BOUND HIM WELL. 

The slaughtered lion's token. 

The honey and the bees. 
To-day, in full completeness, 

The mystery stands good ; 
Since from the Strong comes Sweetness, 

And from the eater food. 

Hearken to Him as He comes in His might, 
Monarch of monarchs, victorious in fight. 
Speaks He in anger, the sinner to blame ? 
Speaks He in sorrow, the dastard to shame .'' 
With no reproach for blindness 

He meets His own to-day ; 
In perfect loving-kindness 

Thus only will He say : — 
" The winter-time away is past ; the rain is 

gone and o'er ; 
The flowerets bloom again at last ; the birds 

are heard once more ; 
And in our land we list afresh the cooing of 

the dove ; 
The figs and vines are green and lush : oh, 

come away, My Love!" 



AS Sr RING'S SWEET BREATH. 29 1 



^s .Spring's sbjeet Brcatfj after long 
SEtntrg ^noto» 

By Right Rev. Robert Hall Baynes, Bishop of Madagascar. He 
was born at Wellington, Somersetshire, March 10, 1831 ; received his 
preliminary education at Bath ; graduated at 0.\ford, B.A., in 1856, and 
M.A. in 1859; took holy orders, and was appointed Vicar of St. Paul's, 
Whitechapel, London, in 1858; Vicar of Holy Trinity, Maidstone, 1862; 
Vicar of St. Michael and All Saints, Coventry, i866; and Bishop of Mada- 
gascar, 1870. He edited the Canterbury Hymnal and " Lyra Anglicana," 
and has published several volumes of prayers, sermons, and religious 
poetry. Besides the compilations already mentioned, and others of" Eng- 
lish Lyrics," and " Sacred Poetry," he has published a volume of original 
poems, " Autumn Memories, and other Verses." 

spring's sweet breath after long 

wintry snow, 
As land to voyager o'er pathless sea, 
As daybreak after weary night of woe, 
Is Easter joy to me. 

All Lenten shadows over, and the light 
Around us and within so sweet and strong ! 

Teach us, O risen Master, how aright 
To sing our Easter-song! 

We stand to-day beside Thy open tomb ; 
We gaze on "linen clothes " with reverent 
heed, 
And hear the angels whispering through the 
gloom, — 
" Not here, but risen indeed ! " 




292 AS SPRING'S SWEET BREATH. 

And all the story of Thy love divine 

Throbs through our hearts, longing, O 
Christ ! for Thee : 

The bitter chalice, with the deadly wine. 
Was drained to set us free. 

The grave is dark no more : a stream of light 
Thou, rising, left behind for all Thine own ; 

Death's chain is broken by Thine arm of might, 
And rolled away the stone. 

Now Easter-light flushes the morning sky : 
Thy form we see, all changed, and yet the 
same. 

Master, we kneel before Thee : hear our cry, 
And call us each by name.^ 

When evening shadows lengthen all around. 
And we to Emmaus take our weary way, 

With us, O risen Saviour, still be found, 
And turn our night to day ! 

And from Thy radiant throne of light above. 
Oh ! send us, till our desert wanderings 
cease. 

Thine own best legacy of tender love, 
Thy sweetest gift of peace. 

1 "Jesus saith unto her, Mary." — John xx. 16. 



ALLELUIA ! ALLELUIA! 293 

Then at the last, when all shall wake who 

sleep, 
Made like to Thee in raiment white and 

fair, 
Oh, bid us welcome to Thy home, to keep 

One endless Easter there ! 



micluta! mirluta! 

From the Canterbury Hymnal, edited by Right Rev. Robert Hall 
Bavnes, D.D. — See note to the preceding hymn. 




LLELUIA! Alleluia! 

Hearts to heaven, and voices, 
raise ; 

Sing to God a hymn of gladness, 
Sing to God a hymn of praise. 
He who on the cross a Victim 

For the world's salvation bled, 
Jesus Christ, the King of Glory, 
Now is risen from the dead. 

Now the iron bars are broken ; 

Christ from death to life is born. 
Glorious life, and life immortal. 

On this holy Easter-morn. 
Christ hath triumphed, and wc conquer 

By His mighty enterprise : 



294 ALLELUIA! ALLELUIA! 

We with Christ to life eternal 
By His resurrection rise. 

Christ is risen, — Christ, the first-fruits 

Of the holy harvest-field, 
Which will all its full abundance 

At His second coming yield ; 
Then the golden ears of harvest 

Will their heads before Him wave, 
Ripened by His glorious sunshine, 

From the furrows of the grave. 

Christ is risen, we are risen : 

Shed upon us heavenly grace, 
Rain and dew, and gleams of glory. 

From the brightness of Thy face, 
That we, Lord, with hearts in heaven. 

Here on earth may fruitful be, 
And by angel-hands be gathered, 

And be ever safe with Thee. 

Alleluia! Alleluia! 

Glory be to God on high. 
To the Father, and the Saviour, 

Who has gained the victory : 
Glory to the Holy Spirit, 

Fount of love and sanctity. 
Alleluia! Alleluia! 

To the Triune Majesty! 



NOT WITH THE FAITHFUL FEW. 295 




SEe tocre not iuiti) tfjc jFaitfjful jFciu. 

From the Canterbury Hymnal. 

E were not with the faithful few 

Who stood Thy bitter cross around, 
Nor heard Thy prayer for those that 
slew, 
Nor felt that earthquake rock the ground ; 
We saw no spear-wound pierce Thy side : 
Yet we believe that Thou hast died. 

No angel's message met our ear 

On that first glorious Easter-day, — 

"The Lord is risen ! He is not here : 
Come, see the place where Jesus lay! " 

But we believe that Thou didst quell 

The banded powers of Death and Hell. 

We saw Thee not return on high ; 

And now, our longing sight to bless, 
No ray of glory from the sky 

Shines down upon our wilderness : 
Yet we believe that Thou art there. 
And seek Thee, Lord, in praise and prayer. 



296 PUT ON THY BEAUTIFUL ROBES. 



^ut on t!)2 Beautiful Eolies, Brine of 
C!)rist. 

By William Chatterton Dix ; born at Bristol in 1837, ^"d living 
(in 1872) in Glasgow. He has contributed a number of sacred lyrics to 
periodicals, and is the author of a small volume of poetry. 




UT on thy beautiful robes, Bride of 
Christ; 
For the King shall embrace thee 
to-day : 
Break forth into singing ; the morning has 
dawned, 
And the shadows of night are away. 

Shake off the dust from thy feet, Bride of 
Christ ; 

For the Conqueror, girded with might, 
Has vanquished the foe, the dragon cast down, 

And the cohorts of hell put to flight. 

Thou art the Bride of His love. His elect : 
Dry thy tears ; for thy sorrows are past. 

Lone were the hours when thy Lord was 
away ; 
But He comes with the morning at last. 



PUT ON THY BEAUTIFUL ROBES. 297 

The winds bear the noise of His chariot- 
wheels, 

And the thunders of victory roar : 
Lift up thy beautiful gates, Bride of Christ ; 

For the grave has dominion no more. 

Once they arrayed Him with scorning ; but 
see ! 

His apparel is glorious now : 
In His hand are the keys of death and of hell, 

And the diadem gleams on His brow. 

Hark ! 'tis her voice : Alleluia she sings, 

Alleluia ! the captives are free ! 
Unfolded the gates of Paradise stand, 

And unfolded forever shall be. 

Choir answers choir, where the song has no 
end ; 

All the saints raise Hosannas on high ; 
Deep calls unto deep in the ocean of love 

As the Bride lifts her jubilant cry. 



298 CHRIST OUR PASCHAL LAMB. 



Cfjrtst is become our ^^ascfjal iLamli. 

From Chope's Hymnal, 




HRIST is become our Paschal Lamb, 
For us condemned to die : 
Those washed in His Atoning Blood 
The Avenger passeth by. 



Hail ! Sacred Victim, by whose death 
Death hath been overcome ; 

Who by Thy Burial hast dispersed 
The darkness of the tomb ! 

He that was dead now lives again ; 

The prison-doors are riven : 
Triumphant o'er our ghostly foe, 

He opes the gates of Heaven, 

Oh, grant us. Lord, with Thee to die, 

With Thee again to rise ; 
To spurn the things of earth, and seek 

The treasures of the skies ! 



FAR BE SORROW, TEARS, AND SIGHING! 299 



jFar be .SorrobJ, Cears, antJ 5tg!}ing! 

From Dr. Kennedy's " Hymnologia Christiana. " 




AR be sorrow, tears, and sighing! 
Waves are calming, storms are 
dying : 

Moses hath o'erpassed the sea ; 
Israel's captive hosts are free : 
Life by death slew death, and saved us ; 
In His blood the Lamb hath laved us. 
Clothing us with victory. Alleluia ! 

Hark ! the deep abysses thunder ; 

Hark ! the chains are snapped in sunder, 
And the unfettered fathers rise. 
Soaring toward the opened skies. 

God and Man, our ransom paying, 

And in light Himself arraying, 

Claimeth now the victory. Alleluia ! 

Jesus Christ from death has risen : 
'Twas His Godhead burst the prison ; 

'Twas His blest Humanity 

Struggled with our misery : 



300 CALM THEY SIT WITH CLOSED DOOR. 

God's long patience, God's rejection, 
Brought to pass our resurrection, 

Brought to pass our victory. Alleluia ! 

This the law the Saviour teaches. 
This the call the trumpet preaches : — 

Sinner, from the grave of sin 

Rise, eternal joy to win. 
From the death our sins decreed us 
Jesus Christ by death has freed us : 

Sing we, then. His victory. Alleluia! 



Calm tl}e2 sit b3it!j Closely IBoor* 

From Dr. Kennedy's " Hymnologia Christiana." 

jlALM they sit with closed door. 
Shutting out the city's din : 
Tenant of the tomb n© more. 
See the Saviour enter in ! 
Spirit-like behold Him glide 

To each saintly, wondering guest ; 
Show His pierced hands and side. 
Breathe His peace in every breast. 

What though years have rolled away, 
Since, triumphant from the tomb, 




AlVAA'E, TIIOU WINTRY EARTH I 3OI 

Jesus, at the close of day, 

Sought that quiet upper room ? 

Oft, from Zion's heavenly hill. 
Seeks He yet His faithful few ; 

Bides with them in spirit still ; 
Shows each glorious wound anew. 

Mighty Lord, descend, we pray, 

Where Thy fond disciples meet : 
Many a Magdalene to-day 

Fain would her Deliverer greet ; 
Many a Thomas scarce can dare 

Own Thee for his God and Lord ; 
Come, and banish doubt and care 

With Thy true almighty Word. 



^bjafte, tj}ou tomtr^ l£arti^! 



Contributed by Thomas Blackburn to Fosbery's " Hymns and 
Poems for the Sick and Suffering." 



WAKE, thou wintry earth ! 
Fling off thy sadness ! 
Fair vernal flowers, laugh forth 
Your ancient gladness : 

Christ is risen ! 




302 GLORY BE TO GOD ON HIGH! 

Wave, woods, your blossoms all ! 

Grim death is dead ; 
Ye weeping, funeral trees, 

Lift up your head : 

Christ is risen ! 

All is fresh and new, 

Full of spring and light : 
Wintry heart, why wear'st the hue 

Of sleep and night ? 

Christ is risen ! 

Leave thy cares beneath. 

Leave thy worldly love : 
Begin the better life 

With God above : 

Christ is risen ! 



ffilorg \z to (2B^otr on ^^tgfj! 

By W. B., in " Lyra Messianica." 

]LORY be to God on high ! 
Sang the Angels from the sky. 
When the Holiest, stooping low. 
Put on strength against our foe. 
Ye that hymned the strife begun. 
Loftier hymn the triumph won : 




GLORY BE TO GOD ON HIGH! 303 

Death has crouched to Adam's seed, — 
Christ the Lord is risen indeed ! 

Hail the Flower that ne'er shall fade ! 
Hail the Day the Lord hath made ! 
Bridal morn of earth and heaven, 
Dawn of joy to Christ's Eleven. 
Mary, though the word came true, 
Though the sword hath pierced thee through, 
Now thy soul no more shall bleed, — 
Now thy Son is risen indeed ! 

Hell hath done its last and worst : 
Vain the traitor's kiss accurst, 
Swords and staves and ruffian crew. 
Priestly vestments rent in two, 
Blows, and spitting on that face 
Whence the pure heavens look for grace, 
Tongues forsworn, and doom decreed, — 
Christ the Lord is risen indeed ! 

Vain the hate that watched His woe. 
Feasting on each wound and throe ; 
From the sacred Corpse drew Blood ; 
Made Him sure, as best it could : 
Hours of grief and waiting past, 
Comes our own dear Lord at last, 
Ne'er again to groan or bleed, — 
Christ the Lord is risen indeed ! 



304 GLORY BE TO GOD ON HIGH! 

Round His feet their snares they laid; 
For His Soul a pit they made, 
Wrought it deep, and tracked Him well : 
Down their own dark gulf they fell ; 
And their cords, all strong and new, 
Lo ! like thread He bursts them through ! 
Hunters caught, and Quarry freed, — 
Christ the Lord is risen indeed ! 

So be all Thy foes undone : 

Shine Thy friends like morning sun, — 

Shine with light that streams from Thee 

In Thy Paschal victory. 

While they see Thee standing near, 

Darkest times are daylight clear, 

Sunlit by the Paschal creed, — 

Christ the Lord is risen indeed ! 

Chants and chimes of Easter-morn, 
Praise our God, the Virgin-born, 
Who, by dying, death o'erthrew, 
Rose, and won us life anew. 
Hail ! sweet day that stills all fears. 
Heals all wounds, and dries all tears ; 
Mightier yet than bitterest need, — 
Christ the Lord is risen indeed ! 



THE GRAVES GROW THICKER. 305 



Ei}e ffira&cs groin Ef)icltcr, anU iLtfe's 
SEaus more Bare. 

By. R. E. J. A., in " Lyra Mystica." 



HE graves grow thicker, and life's 
ways more bare, 
As years on years go by : 
Nay, thou hast more green gardens in thy 
care. 
And more stars in thy sky ! 

Behind, hopes turned to griefs, and joys to 
memories, 
Are fading out of sight ; 
Before, pains changed to peace, and dreams 
to certainties. 
Are glowing in God's Light. 

Hither come backslidings, defeats, distresses, 

Vexing this mortal strife ; 
Thither go progress, victories, successes, 

Crowning immortal Life. 

No jubilees, few gladsome, festive hours, 
Form landmarks for my way ; 

But Heaven and earth, and Saints and friends 
and flowers. 
Are keeping Easter-Day ! 




306 A FA THWA Y OPENS FROM THE TOMB. 



^ ^atjixias opens from tlje ^oml&. 



From " Lyra Anglicana," edited by Rev. George T. Rider, New 
York, 1865. 



PATHWAY opens from the tomb ; 

The grave's a grave no more : 
Stoop down ; look into that sweet 
room ; 
Pass through the unsealed door ; 
Linger a moment by the bed 
Where lay but yesterday the Church's Head. 

What is there there to make thee fear ? 

A folded chamber-vest, 
Akin to that which thou shalt wear 

When for thy slumber drest ; 
Two gentle angels sitting by : 
How sweet a room, methinks, wherein to lie ! 

No gloomy vault, no charnel-cell, 

No emblems of decay ; 
No solemn sound of passing-bell 

To say, "He's gone away ; " 
But angel-whispers soft and clear, 
And He, the risen Jesus, standing near. 



A PA TinVA Y OPENS FROM THE TOMB. 307 

" Why weepest thou ? Whom seekest thou ? " 

Tis not the gardener's voice, 
But His to Whom all knees shall bow, 

In Whom all hearts rejoice, — 
The voice of Him Who yesterday 
Within that rock was Death's resistless prey. 

" Why weepest thou ? Whom seekest thou ? 

The living with the dead ? " 
Take young spring flowers, and deck thy 
brow ; 

For life with joy is wed. 
The grave is now the grave no more : 
Why fear to pass that bridal chamber door .-* 

Take flowers, and strew them all around 

The room where Jesus lay : 
But softly tread ; 'tis hallowed ground ; 

And this is Easter-Day. 
" The Lord is risen," as He said. 
And thou shalt rise with Him, thy risen 
Head. 



308 DAYS GROW LONGER. 



IBa^S grobj Honger, Suntreams .Stronger* 



Miss Chapman, in her collection of Easter Hymns, credits the follow- 
ing to an English book of Hymns and Carols. 




AYS grow longer, sunbeams stronger ; 
Easter-tide makes all things new ; 
Lent is banished, sadness vanished : 
Christ hath risen ; rise we too. 



Christmas greetings, Twelfth-Night meetings, 
Whitsun sports, are glad and gay ; 

But the lightest and the brightest 
Of our feasts is Easter-Day. 

Earthly story crowns with glory 
Him Whom earthly foes o'ercame : 

Victor's laurel ends the quarrel ; 
Honor dwells about His name. 

Vanquished legions, conquered regions. 
Kings deposed, and princes bound ; 

Exultation, acclamation, 

Fill His ears, and float around. 



DAYS GROW LONGER. 309 

Then, unending and transcending 

Be the glory of the Son ; 
For transcendent and resplendent 

Was the victory He hath won. 

Death hath yielded, life is shielded, 
Satan bound, and Hell in chains ; 

Chased is terror, fled is error ; 
Grief is past, and joy remains. 



Qlmerican. 



WELCOME, DAY! 313 




Mrlromr, © ©as I in tra^^lmg ffilorg 

By William Allen, D.D., who was born at Pittsfield, Mass., Jan. 
2, 1784; graduated at Harvard University 1802;' was ordained over the 
Congregational Church at Pittsfield, October, 1810; President of Dart- 
mouth College 1817; President of Bowdoin College 182&-39; died at 
Northampton July 16, 1868. He was the author of several biographical 
and historical works, and of a volume of " Christian Sonnets," from which 
the following is taken. 

ELCOME, O Day! in dazzling glory 
bright ! 
Emblem of yet another day most 
blest, 
When all Christ's friends with Him in 
Heaven shall rest ; 
For on this day, in his recovered might, 
The Sleeper waked to see this morning's 
light, — 
" The Son of God ! " glad angel-hosts attest : 
So, when alive, most fully shown, confest ; 
For on this day He took His Heavenward 

flight. 
When, therefore, our glad eyes this morning's 
sun 



314 LIFT YOUR GLAD VOICES. 

See rising on the earth, we'll lift our 

thought 
To Him, who by His death our life hath 
bought. 
And, Victor, King, for us a crown hath won. 
It e'er shall be a day of sweetest joy. 
Till we shall see our Lord in yonder sky ! 



iLift 20Wi^ ^lati Uotces in Ertumpfj on 



l^tsij. 



By Henry Ware, jun., D.D., born at Hingham, Mass., April 21, 
1794; died at Framingham Sept. 25, 1843. He graduated at Harvard 
University m 1812; and, after teaching for some time at the Exeter Acad- 
emy, he prepared himself for the ministry under the direction of his father, 
minister of the Unitarian Church at Hingham; was licensed to preach in 
1815; and viras ordamed over the Second Church, Boston, in 1817. He 
was appointed a professor in the Cambridge Theological School in 1829, 
and remained in the active duties of that position until the summer of 
1842, when, worn out with arduous work as lecturer, preacher, and writer, 
he retired to Framingham, and died there in the year following. His 
collected writings were published after his death. They are mostly of a 
religious and theological character, and include a considerable number 
of fine hymns, of which the following is the most familiar. 

IFT your glad voices in triumph on 
high ; 
For Jesus hath risen, and man cannot 
die. 
Vain were the terrors that gathered around 
Him, 
And short the dominion of death and the 
srrave : 




LIFT YOUR GLAD VOICES. 315 

He burst from the fetters of darkness that 
bound Him, 
Resplendent in glory, to live and to save. 
Loud vvas the chorus of angels on high, — 
" The Saviour hath risen, and man can- 
not die." 

Glory to God, in full anthems of joy ! 
The being He gave us death cannot 
destroy ! 
Sad were the life we must part with to- 
morrow 
If tears were our birthright, and death 
were our end ; 
But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of 
sorrow. 
And bade us, immortal, to heaven ascend. 
Lift, then, your glad voices in triumph 

on high ; 
For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not 
die. 



3l6 ALL PRAISE TO HIM OF NAZARETH. 



^11 praise to !ltm of Napretfj* 



By William Cullen Bryant, born at Cummington, Mass., Nov. 3, 
1794; and died June 12, 1878, at New York. He studied for two years at 
Williams College, and afterward studied and practised law. In 1825 he 
became editor of " The New- York Review." In 1826 he formed a con- 
nection with " The New- York Evening Post," and, in the year following, 
assumed the editorial charge of that journal, — a position which he retained 
until his death, although in later years the direct control of affairs was 
in other hands. In his long life he found time for many forms of literary 
activity, and to the last contributed occasional pieces of verse to the 
periodicals of the day, and graced public occasions by his presence. 
His noble and elevating poems, and his translations of the " Iliad " and 
the " Odyssey," give him a permanent place in literature, and justify the 
estimate in which he is held among English-speaking people. His 
essays, addresses, and letters of travel, proved him to possess a prose 
style scarcely less graceful and dignified ; and in all his writings, whether 
in prose or verse, we feel ourselves in contact with a spirit of singular 
sweetness and purity. The verses which follow were written for a Com- 
munion Hymn, and are quoted from a little book of hymns which he 
published in 1864. 



LL praise to Him of Nazareth, — 
The Holy One who came, 
For love of man, to die a death 
Of agony and shame ! 



Dark was the grave ; but, since He lay 

Within its dreary cell. 
The beams of heaven's eternal day 

Upon its threshold dwell. 




ONCE MOKE rilOU COMEST. 317 

He grasped the iron veil ; He drew 

Its gloomy folds aside, 
And opened to His followers' view 

The glorious world they hide. 

In tender memory of His grave 

The mystic bread we take, 
And muse upon the life He gave 

So freely for our sake. 

A boundless love He bore mankind : 

Oh, may at least a part 
Of that strong love descend, and find 

A place in every heart ! 



©wu more t!}ou romrst, © trcltcious 
^princj ! 

By Rev. William Croswell, D.D., who was bom at Hudson, N.Y., 
in 1804, graduated at Yale in 1823, and died at Boston in 1851. He was 
Rector of Christ Church, Boston, 1829-40; Rector of St. Peter's Church, 
Auburn, N.Y., 1840-44; and Rector of the Church of the Advent, Boston, 
from 1844 till his death. His poems were published in a volume after his 
death. 

NCE more thou comest, O delicious 
Spring ! 
And, as thy light and gentle foot- 
steps tread 
Among earth's glories, desolate and dead, 




3 1 8 ' TIS HE ! ' TIS HE ! I KNO W HIM NO W. 

Breathest revival over every thing. 
Thy genial spirit is abroad to bring 

The cold and faded into life and bloom, — 

Emblem of that which shall unlock the 
tomb, 
And take away the fell destroyer's sting : 
Therefore thou hast the warmer welcoming ; 
For Nature speaks not of herself alone, 
But in her resurrection tells our own. 

As from the grave comes forth the buried 
grain, 
So man's frail body, in corruption sown, ' 

In incorruption shall be raised again. 



*Ets !^e ! 'tis ^t I 31 \m\a f^tm nohj. 

By George Washington Bethune, D.D., who was bom in New 
York in 1805; graduated at Dickinson College 1822; studied theology 
at Princeton ; was settled as pastor over the Reformed Dutch churches at 
Rhinebeck, N.Y. (1827), at Philadelphia (1834), and at Brooklyn Heights, 
N.Y. (1850) ; died at Florence, Italy, whither he had gone to seek re- 
covery of impaired health, April 27, 1862. He was a man of fine scholar- 
ship, and of brilliant powers as writer and orator. He published several 
volumes of essays, sermons, and poems. 



IS He ! 'tis He ! I know Him now, 
By the. red scars upon His brow. 
His wounded hands, and feet, and 
side, — 
My Lord ! my God ! the Crucified ! 




'T/S HE! 'TIS HE! I KNOW HIM NOW. 319 

Those hands have rolled the stone away ; 
Those feet have trod the path to-day ; 
And round that brow triumphant shine 
The rays of Majesty divine. 

Oh, from those hands uplifted shed 
Thy blessing on my fainting head ! 
And, as I clasp those feet, impart 
The love that gushed from out Thy heart ! 

Thy death upon the cross be mine ; 
My life from mortal sin be Thine ; 
And mine the way Thy feet have trod. 
To reign in heaven with Thee, My God ! 



320 TELL US, GARD'NER. 



Eell tis, ffiarti*ner, Uost tfjou fenoixi? 

By Arthur Cleveland Coxe, D.D., Bishop of Western New York. 
He was bom in Mendham, N.J., May lo, 1818, and studied at the Uni- 
versity of New York. He was ordained in 1841, and has been Rector of 
the parishes of St. Anne's, Morrisania, St. John's, Hartford, and Grace 
Church, Brooklyn. Since 1864 he has been Bishop of Western New 
York. He is one of the best known of American sacred poets, and his 
" Christian Ballads " in particular have enjoyed a wide and merited popu- 
larity. The following exquisite Easter Madrigal was first printed in 
"The New-York Independent" in 1877, and is here given as revised by 
the author for this collection. 



MARY AND SALOME, 




ELL US, Gard'ner, dost thou know 
Where the Rose and Lily grow, — 
Sharon's Crimson Rose, and pale 

Judah's Lily of the Vale ? 

Rude is yet the opening year ; 

Yet their sweetest breath is here. 

GARDENER. 

Daughters of Jerusalem, 
Yes, 'tis here we planted them. 
'Twas a Rose all red with gore ; 
Wondrous were the thorns it bore 
'Twas a body swathed in white ; 
Ne'er was Lily half so bright. 



TELL US, GARD'NER. 32 1 

THE WOMEN. 

Gentle Garcl'ner, even so ; 

What we seek thou seem'st to know. 

Bearing spices and perfume, 

We are come to Joseph's tomb. 

Breaks even now the rosy day : 

Roll us, then, the stone away. 

GARDENER. 

Holy women ! this the spot. 
Seek Him ; but it holds Him not. 
This the holy mount of myrrh, 
Here the hills of incense were, 
Here the bed of His repose. 
Till, ere dawn of day. He rose. 

MAGDALENE. 

Yes, my name is Magdalene : 
I myself the Lord have seen. 
Here I came but now, and wept 
Where I deemed my Saviour slept : 
But He called my name ; and, lo ! 
Jesus lives, — 'tis even so. 

GARDENER. 

Yes, the mountains skipped like rams ; 
Leaped the little hills like lambs ; 



322 TELL US, GARD'NER. 

All was dark, when shook the ground, 
Quaked the Roman soldiers round. 
Streamed a glorious light, and then 
Lived the Crucified again. 

WOMEN. 

Magdalene hath seen and heard ! 
Gardener, we believe thy word ; 
But, oh, where is Jesus fled, 
Living, and no longer dead .'' 
Tell us, that we, too, may go 
Where the Rose and Lily grow. 

MAGDALENE. 

Come, the stone is rolled away ; 

See the place where Jesus lay ; 

See the lawn that wrapped His brow ; 

Here the angel sat but now. 

" Seek not here the Christ," he said ; 

" Seek not life among the dead." 

ALL. 

Seek we, then, the life above ; 
Seek we Christ, our Light and Love. 
Now His words we call to mind: 
If we seek Him, we shall find ; 
If we love Him, we shall know 
Where the Rose and Lily grow. 



THE WINTER IS OVER. 323 



Ws^t SEintcr is ober anti gone at 3Last. 

By Arthur Cleveland Coxe, D.D., Bishop of Western New York. 
— See the biographical note prefixed to the preceding poem. 

|HE winter is over and gone at last ; 
The days of snow and cold are past ; 
Over the fields the flowers appear : 
It is the Spirit's voice we hear : 
The singing of birds, 
A warbling band, 
And the Spirit's voice, — 
The voice of the truth, — is heard in our land. 

And gone are the plaintive days of Lent : 
The week of the cross with Christ we spent ; 
Now He giveth us joy for woe : 
Gather the flowers, the first that blow : 

The singing of birds, 

A warbling band, 

And flowers, are words 
Which even a babe may understand. 

And Christ is the song of every thing; 
For death is winter, and Christ is spring : 



324 ETERNAL FATHER! AT WHOSE WORD. 

Fountains that warble in purling words, 
Hark! how they echo the "song of birds " ! 

The singing of birds, 

A warbling band, 

And the purling words 
Of brooks and waters, are heard in our land. 



lEternal jFatijer ! at SEjjose TOortr. 

By Rev. Thomas Hill, D.D., born at New Brunswick, N.J., Jan. 
7, 1818; graduated at Harvard University in 1843; ordained pastor of the 
Unitarian church at Waltham in 1845; President of Antioch College, 
Ohio, in 1859; President of Harvard College 1861-67; representative from 
Waltham in the Massachusetts Legislature 1870-71 ; installed pastor of 
the First Parish, Portland, Me., May 18, 1873. He is the author of a 
number of theological and scientific treatises, and of several hundred 
hymns. 

TERNAL Father ! at whose word 
Creation flashed to instant birth, 
Thy will, which gave this body life. 
Bids it return to lifeless earth. 



But thou didst send that risen Lord, 
Who once in Joseph's garden lay. 

Burst from the night of transient death, 
And called us to immortal day. 

In His dear name we ask thy help, 
By faith in Him to live and die, 




S/NG ALOUD, CHILDREN! 325 

That, when our bodies sleep in dust, 
We may with Him ascend on high. 

Eternal Father ! by thy word 

Raise us from sin and death's dark night, 
That we may even now with Christ 

Dwell in the realms of heavenly light. 



^ing alouti, Cfjiltirctt! sing to tje 
Glorious '^\\\%. 

By Dr. Alexander Ramsay Thompson. — See the biographical 
notice prefixed to the hymn, "We keep the Festival." 



riSf^^ 



ING aloud, children ! sing to the glo- 
rious King 
Of Rcdemistion, who sits on the 
throne ; 
For the seraphim high veil their faces, and 
cry, 
And the angels are praising the Son. 

With His raiment blood-dyed, and with 
wounds in His side, 
He returns like a chief from the war, 
Where His champion blow hath laid death 
and hell low, 
And hath driven destruction afar. 



326 DO SAINTS KEEP HOLY DAY? 

Not a helper stood by when the foemen drew 
nigh, 
And arrayed their leagued hosts for the 
fight; 
But He met them alone, and the victory won 
By His own irresistible might. 

Yes, the triumph He won ! Give the Cruci- 
fied Son 
Hallelujahs of praise ever new : 
Hail Him, children, and say, Hallelujah ! to- 
day ; 
For the Saviour is risen for you. 

liD faints Iteejj l^olg ©ag x\\ Heabenlij 
Places? 

By Mrs. Adeline D. T. Whitney, who was born in Boston in 1824. 
She is the daughter of Mr. Enoch Train, and the wife of Mr. Seth D. 
Whitney of Milton, Mass., where she now resides. She is the author of 
" Faith Gartney's Girlhood," " Hitherto," " Sights and Insights," and 
other stories, and o\ a number of poems, some of which have been pub- 
lished in a volume entitled " Pansies." Her writings, both prose and 
verse, are marked by deep spiritual feeling. 




O saints keep holy day in heavenly 
places .'* 
Does the old joy shine new in angel- 
faces .'' 
Are hymns still sung the night when Christ 

was born .-* 
And anthems on the resurrection-morn .-* 



DO SAINTS KEEP HOLY DAY? 327 

Because our little year of earth is run, 
Do they keep record there beyond the sun, 
And, in their homes of light so far away, 
Mark with us the sweet coming of this day ? 

What is their Easter ? for they have no 

graves ; 
No shadow there the holy sunrise craves, — 
Deep in the heart of noontide marvellous, 
Whose breaking glory reaches down to us. 

Hozv did the Loi'd keep Easter? With His 

own ! 
Back to meet Mary, where she grieved alone, 
With face and mien all tenderly the same, 
Unto the very sepulchre He came. 

Ah the dear message that He gave her 

then ! — 
Said for the sake of all bruised hearts of 

men, — 
"Go tell those friends that have believed on 

me, 
I go before them into Galilee. 

" Into the life so poor and hard and plain, 
That for a while they must take up again, 



328 DO SAINTS KEEP HOLY DAY? 

My presence passes : where their feet toil 

slow, 
Mine, shining, swift with love, still foremost 

go! 

" Say, Mary, I will meet them by the way. 
To walk a little with them ; where they stay, 
To bring my peace. Watch ; for ye do not 

know 
The day, the hour, when I may find you so ! " 

And I do think, as He came back to her. 
The many mansions may be all astir 
With tender steps, that hasten in the way. 
Seeking their own upon this Easter-Day. 

Parting the veil that hideth them about, 
I think they do come, softly, wistful, out 
From homes of heaven that only seem so far. 
And walk in gardens where the new tombs 
are. 



HALLOWED FOREVER. 329 



l^alloiurli forrbrr be tf}at Einiliglit Hour* 



By Mrs. Martha Perry Lowe, born at Keene, N.H., Nov. 21, 
1829; and married, Sept. i5, 1S57, to Rev. Charles Lowe, editor of " The 
Unitarian Review." She is the author of two volumes of verse. 






ALLOWED forever be that twilight 
hour 
When those disciples went u^^on their 
way : 
The deepening shadows o'er their spirits 
lower, 
The tender griefs that come with close of 
day. 

A gentle stranger tarried by their side, 

And asked them sweetly why they were so 
sad } 
" Hast thou not seen our Master crucified ? " 
They answered, " How can we again be 
glad .? " 

" O children," said the stranger, " do you read 
The things which all the holy prophets said, 

How He would suffer and would die indeed, 
But yet should rise in glory from the dead .'' " 



330 HALLOWED FOREVER. 

And, when the little village came in view, 
They said, " Abide with us ; for it is late : " 

So He went in, and sat down with the two. 
And took the bread, and blessed it ere they 
ate. 

Their searching eyes were fastened on His 
face ; 
They caught the look which chained them 
as of old, 
Only it wore diviner, loftier grace : 

Their glorious risen Master they behold ! 

And then they knew how strangely all the 
while 
Their spirits burned within them as He 
talked. 
Or listened to them with that very smile, 
Explaining oft the Scriptures while they 
walked. 

They felt reward for all their bitter pain, 
When, lo, He vanished softly from their 
sight ! 

But they could never be so sad again 

Who had the memory of that blessed night. 




HOW SHALL WE KEEP THIS HOLY DAY? '^^l 



lobj sijall SEe krcp tfjts lolu ©ag of 
Slatiiifss ? 

By Miss Emii.y Se.wer, who was born in Charlcstown, Mass., in 
1835; and is now living at Rutland, Vt. The following is taken from a 
volume of poems published in 1878, and containing several excellent 
hymns for the festivals of the Church. 

iOW shall we keep this holy day of 
gladness, 
This queen of days, that bitter, hope- 
less sadness 
Forever drives away ? 
The night is past, its sleep and its forgetting : 
Our risen sun, no more forever setting, 
Pours everlasting day. 

Let us not bring upon this joyful morning 
Dead myrrh and spices for our Lord's adorn- 
in o- 

Nor any lifeless thing : 
Our gifts shall be the fragrance and the 

splendor 
Of living flowers, in breathing beauty tender, 

The glory of our spring. 

And, with tlie myrrh, oh ! put away the leaven 
Of malice, hatred, injuries unforgiven. 



332 CHRIST HAS A RISE AT. 

And cold and lifeless form ; 
Still, with the lilies, deeds of mercy bringing, 
And fervent prayers, and praises upward 
springing, 

And hopes pure, bright, and warm. 

So shall this Easter shed a fragrant beauty 
O'er many a day of dull and cheerless duty, 

And light thy wintry way ; 
Till rest is won, and Patience, smiling faintly. 
Upon thy breast shall lay her lilies saintly. 

To hail heaven's Easter-day, 



Christ Ijas arisen* 

By E. A. Washburn, D.D. From Miss Chapman's " Easter 
Hymns." — See the biographical note prefixed to the hymn, " Still thy 
sorrow, Magdalena." 

HRIST has arisen : 
Death is no more ! 
Lo ! the white-robed ones 
Sit by the door. 
Dawn, golden morning ! 

Scatter the night ! 
Haste, ye disciples glad, 
First with the light ! 




CHRIST HAS ARISEN. H}^ 

Break forth in singing, 

O world new-born ! 
Chant the great Easter-tide, 

Christ's holy morn ! 
Chant Him, young sunbeams 

Dancing in mirth ! 
Chant, all ye winds of God 

Coursing the earth ! 

Chant Him, ye laughing flowers 

Fresh from the sod ! 
Chant Him, wild, leaping streams, 

Praising your God ! 
Break from thy winter, 

Sad heart, and sing ! 
Bud with thy blossoms fair; 

Christ is thy spring. 

Come where the Lord hath lain : 

Past is the gloom : 
See the full eye of day 

Smile through the tomb ! 
Hark ! angel-voices 

Fall from the skies : 
Christ hath arisen ! 

Glad heart, arise ! 



334 <5 MINE EYES, BE NOT SO TEARFUL! 



© mine ISges, fte not so EearfuU 

By Miss Phcebe Gary, who was born Sept. 4, 1824; and died at New- 
port, R.I., July 31, 1871. Her birthplace was in Ohio, in a farmhouse 
eight miles north of Cincinnati. Left motherless at an early age, she 
and her sister Alice found consolation in writing verses, which gradually 
attracted attention by their grace, compass, and sweetness. In 1850, 
after publishing a little volume of poems of joint authorship, the sisters 
went to New York, and began the struggle for a livelihood by literary 
labor. Six years later they established themselves in a pleasant home 
on Twentieth Street, which continued the centre of a charming literary 
and social circle until it was broken by the death of Alice in 1870, and 
destroyed by the death of Phosbe in 1871. In the annals of authorship 
there are few things more touching and interesting than the story of the 
common life, labors, and sorrows of these sister poets, as told by Mrs. 
Clemmer in her volume of "Memorials." Their lives were as full of 
fragrance and beauty as their poems, and the latter take rank among the 
best productions of American female poets. The following poem derives 
a pathetic interest from the fact that it is the last that Phoebe Gary wrote, 
and gives voice to her own serene faith, which rose triumphant above 
pain and sickness and the fear of death. 

MINE eyes, be not so tearful ! 
Drooping spirit, rise, be cheerful ; 
Heavy soul, why art thou fearful ? 

" Nature's sepulchre is breaking. 
And the earth, her gloom forsaking, 
Into life and light is waking. 

"Oh the weakness and the madness 
Of a heart that holdeth sadness 
When all else is light and gladness ! 




ON EARTH WAS DARKNESS SPREAD. 335 

" Though thy treasure death has taken, 
They that sleep are not forsaken : 
They shall hear the trump, and waken, 

" Shall not He, who life supplieth 
To the dead seed where it lieth. 
Quicken also man, who dieth ? 

" Yea, the power of death was ended 
When He, who to hell descended, 
Rose, and up to heaven ascended. 

" Rise, my soul, then, from dejection : 

See in nature the reflection 

Of the dear Lord's resurrection. 

"Let this promise leave thee never: — 
If the might of death I sever, 
Ye shall also live forever /" " 



(Bn 1£arti) toas IDarl^nfSS sprcatr, 

. Of anonymous authorship: from " A Book of Hymns for PubHc and 
Private Devotion," edited by S. Longfellow and S. Johnson. 




N earth was darkness spread 
O'er boundless night : 
" Let there be light !" God said ; 
And there was liuht ! 



336 THOU THAT ON THE FIRST OF RASTERS. 

There hung a deeper gloom 

O'er quick and dead ; 
But Jesus burst the tomb, 

And darkness fled. 

God by His word arrayed 

Darkness with light ; 
God by His Son displayed 

Day without night. 

For thee, O man ! arose 

Creation's ray ; 
For thee, too, brighter glows 

Salvation's day. 

The beams first poured on earth 

For mortals shone ; 
The light of later birth 

Imm.ortals own. 



^f)ou tjat on t}}e JFtrst of 5£asters. 

By W. B., from "Elim, or Hymns of Holy Refreshment," edited by 
Rev. F. D. Huntington, D.D. 

HOU that on the first of Easters 
Cam'st resplendent from the tomb, 
Leaving all Thy linen cerements 
Folded in the cavern's gloom, 




THOU THAT ON THE FIRST OF RASTERS. 33/ 

Come with thine " All hail ! " to greet us ; 

Come, our Paschal joy to be : 
Let our altar, clad in brightness, 

Yield a throne of white for Thee. 

This shall crown the Queen of Sundays ; 

Grant but this, — our cup runs o'er : 
Hymns that welcomed in Thine Easter 

Made us long for this the more. 
All the Paschal Alleluias 

Craved to see the Lamb appear : 
Come the hour when faith shall tell us, 

He is risen ! He is here ! 

Agnus Dei, we are guilty ; 

Panis Vitae, we are faint ; 
But Thou didst not rise at Easter 

To be deaf to our complaint : 
Come, oh, come ! to cleanse and feed us, 

Breathing peace, and kindling love, 
Till Thy Paschal blessings bear us 

To the Feast of feasts above. 




338 FOR EASTER DAY, O LILIES WHITE! 



iTor lEaster Jiag, © Mies SEJite! 

By Harriet McEwen Kimball. Miss Kimball was born at Ports- 
mouth, N.H., and has always lived there. She has published a volume 
of " Hymns," and a volume entitled " Swallow Flights of Song," from 
the latter of which ihe following is taken. Mr. Whittier has said of her 
poems, that, " in the range of modern religious poetry, I know of but few 
pieces more true and tender, more sweetly touched with the ' beauty of 
holiness,' than hers." 

OR Easter Day, O Lilies white, 
Your shrined splendors keep ! 
But while the sweet, sad, waning light 
Of Easter Even fades. 
Amid the sacred shades 
Where Sorrow comes to weep, — 
Nor weeps in vain, 
Since Hope is born of very Pain, 
(And Pain its pangs in joy forgets,) — 
There breathe your balm, sweet Violets ! 
Dear twilight-flowers whose lovely hue, 
More tender than the tenderest blue, 
Yet not as purple sad, appears 
Most like transformed tears. 

"A little while ! " ye seem to sigh, 
" And yet a little while ! " ye say, 
" The stone shall noiseless roll away : 

Unseen across the midnight sky 



DAWN OF DAIVNS, THE EASTER DAY. 339 

Twilight and Daybreak run to meet ! 
Already angels throng the air, 
And twain, descending, kneel, 

Veiled in awe, at head and feet 
Of that new tomb whose broken seal 
The wondering Morning shall reveal, 

And ' He is risen ! ' declare. 

Sweet odors — sweeter than the sweet 
Of violets and lilies blent, 
The sweet of holy slumber spent — 

Stealing from vesture folded fair, 

And fragrant with the Lord's own care. 
Wherein His Blessed Body lay 
Till break of day, 

Shall make most sweet the graves of those, 
Who, entering into Paradise, 

Do sleep in Him Who died and rose ; 
In Whom they, too, shall rise." 



©aton of ©aiwns, tije lEastcr ©ao. 

By Harriet McEwen Kimball. — See note to preceding hymn. 

AWN of dawns, the Easter Day 
Far and wide in splendor breaks 
Darkest shadows flee away 
Where it breaks. 




340 DA WN OF DA WNS, THE EASTER DA Y. 

Veiled in its vernal light, 

Christ, the Light of Light, arose ; 
From the grave's unbroken night 
He arose. 

Though beneath the Cross He fell, 
Though upon the Cross He died, 
Led He captive Death and Hell 
When He died. 

Overcome, He overcame ; 

Conquered, more than Conqueror lives ; 
Crowned King with Heaven's acclaim, 
Jesus lives ! 

Through the gates of sacrifice 

He, the Victim, Victor went : 
Lo, His triumph lights the skies 
Since He went ! 

Darker than the night our sin. 
Silent as the tomb our life : 
Still His glory enters in, — 
Light and life. 

" Rise and follow Me," He saith ; 

" Love as I have loved you ; 

Rise to life that I through death 

Won for you." 



DAWN OF DAWNS, THE EASTER DAY. 34 1 

Love that counts not sacrifice, 

Keeping nothing back from Him, — 
To such love must we arise. 
Following Him. 

As He laid His garments by, 

With the bondage of the grave 
Clothed in Love's own majesty 
Left the grave, — 

Self, the earth's most earthy dress, 

Must we cast aside like Him, 
And, putting on His righteousness. 
Rise with Him. 

He hath rolled the stone away. 

Through Redemption's might, for us : 
Dawn of dawns, the Easter Day 
Breaks for us. 



342 WHO DEEMS THE SAVIOUR DEAD? 



[fjo tteems tfje Sabtour IBeati? 



By Francis De Haes Janvier, who was born in Philadelphia in 
1817, and is now residing there. His first volume, " The Skeleton Monk 
and Other Poems," was published in 1861. In 1863 he published a poem 
entitled "The Sleeping Sentinel; " and in i856 a volume of " Patriotic 
Poems," containing verses written during the war of the Rebellion. 




ilHO deems the Saviour dead ? 
And yet he bowed His head, 
And while in sudden night the sun 
retired, 
And, through thick darkness hurled, 
Reeled on the shuddering world. 
The mighty Son of God in blood expired. 

Expired ; but, in the gloom 

And silence of the tomb. 
Death's mystery unveiled to mortal sight : 

Triumphant o'er His foes, 

A conqueror He rose. 
And from the grave commanded life and light ! 

And shall we count those dead 
For whom the Saviour bled. 
And died and rqse, and lives forevermore ? 



WHO DEEMS THE SAVIOUR DEAD? 343 

And were the grief and loss, 
The shame and scourge and cross, 
Endured in vain by Him whom we adore ? 

And shall His children fear 

When that dread hour draws near 
Which gives them immortality with God ? 

Should not our souls rejoice 

To hear our Father's voice, 
And gladly take the path the Saviour trod ? 

Through death's deep shadow lies 

Our journey to the skies. 
And all beyond is light and life and love : 

The dead whom we deplore 

Have only passed before, 
And wait to greet us in the world above. 

Then let the summons come 

Which calls our spirits home 
From sin and pain and sorrow ever free. 

Where weary ones may rest 

Upon that Saviour's breast 
Whose death revealed our immortality. 



344 THE WORLD KEEPS EASTER DAY. 




Cjje SEorlti itself keeps ISaster ©a^. 



The following appears in Miss Chapman's volume of Easter Hymns. 
The name of the author is not given. 



I HE world itself keeps Easter Day, 
And Easter larks are singing, 
And Easter flowers are blooming gay, 
And Easter buds are springing. 
The Lord of all things lives anew. 
And all His works are rising too. 
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! 
Praise the Lord ! 

There stood three Marys by the tomb 

On Easter morning early. 
When day had scarcely chased the gloom, 

And dew was white and pearly : 
With loving but with erring mind 
They came the Prince of Life to find. 
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! 
Praise the Lord ! 

But earlier still the angel sped. 
His words of comfort giving ; 



BREEZES OF SPRING. 345 

"And why," he said, "among the dead 

Thus seek ye for the living ? " 
The risen Jesus lives again, 
To save the souls of sinful men. 

Alleluia ! Alleluia ! Alleluia ! 
Praise the Lord ! 

The world itself keeps Easter Day, 

And Easter larks are singing, 
And Easter flowers are blooming gay, 

And Easter buds are springing. 
The Lord is risen, as all things tell : 
Good Christians, see ye rise as well. 
Alleluia ! Alleluia ! Alleluia ! 
Praise the Lord ! 



Breezes of cSpring, all ISartlj to iLife 
abjafeing* 

Anonymous; from " The Changed Cross " collection. 

|REEZES of spring, all earth to life 
awaking, 
Birds swiftly soaring through the 
sunny sky, 
The butterfly its lonely prison breaking, 
The seed up-springing which had seemed 
to die, — 




346 BREEZES OF SPRING. 

Types such as these a word of hope have 
spoken, 
Have shed a gleam of light around the 
tomb ; 
But weary hearts longed for a surer token, 
A clearer way to dissipate its gloom. 

And this was granted ! See the Lord as- 
cending, 
On crimson clouds of evening calmly 
borne, 
With hands outstretched, and looks of love 
still bending 
On His bereaved ones, who no longer 
mourn ! 

" I am the resurrection," hear Him saying ! 

" I am the life : he who believes in me 
Shall never die : the souls my call obeying, 

Soon where I am forevermore shall be." 

Sing hallelujah ! light from heaven appear- 
ing, 

The mystery of life and death is plain : 
Now to the grave we can descend unfearing. 

In sure and certain hope to rise again ! 



Sibliograpl)!). 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 



The following is a partial list of the volumes consulted in 
the preparatio7i of this collection: — 

Lyra Consolationis; or, Hymns for the Day of Sorrow 
and Weariness. Edited by Horatius Bonar, D.D. New 
York: 1866. 

Elim; or, Hymns of Holy Refreshment. Edited by 
Rev. F. D. Huntington, D.D. Boston : 1865. 

Christian Singers of Germany. By Catherine Wink- 
worth. London : 1869. 

The Voice of Christian Life in Song ; or, Hymns and 
Hymn-Writers of Many Lands and Ages. By Mrs. Eliza- 
beth Charles, author of " The Chronicles of the Schonberg- 
Cotta Family." New York : 1S66. 

Evenings with the Sacred Poets: a Series of Quiet 
Talks about the Singers and their Songs. By Frederick 
Saunders. New York : 1869. 

England's Antiphon. By George MacDonald, LL.D. 
London. 

A Book of Hymns for Public and Private Devo- 
tion. Edited by S. Longfellow and S. Johnson. 13th edi- 
tion- Boston : 1861. 

Lauda Syon. Ancient Latin Hymns of the English and 
Other Churches. Translated into corresponding metres by 
John David Chambers. London : 1S66. 

349 



350 BIBLIO GRAPHY. 

Hymns of Love and Praise for the Christian Year. 
By John S. B. Monsell, Vicar of Egham. London: 1866. 

Hymnologia Christiana; or, Psalms and Hymns 
selected and arranged in the order of the Christian Sea- 
sons. By Benjamin Hall Kennedy, D.D. London : 1863. 

Lyra Germanic a. Hymns for the Sundays and Chief 
Festivals of the Christian Year. Translated from the Ger- 
man by Catherine Winkworth. Boston : 1868. 

Lyra Messianica. Hymns and Verses on the Life of 
Christ, Ancient and Modern, with other poems. Edited by 
Rev. Orby Shipley. London : 1869. 

Carmina Crucis. By Dora Greenwell. Boston: 1869. 

SuRSUM Corda: Hymns for the Sick and Suffer- 
ing. Compiled by the editor of " Quiet Hours," &c. Bos- 
ton: 1877. 

Singers and Songs of the Liberal Faith. Edited, 
with biographical sketches and historical and illustrative 
notes, by Alfred P. Putnam. Boston: 1875. 

Hymns from the Land of Luther. Edinburgh : 1863. 

The Hymns of Denmark. Translated by Gilbert Tait. 
London: 1868. 

Singers and Songs of the Church ; being Biographi- 
cal Sketches of the Hymn-Writers in all the principal col- 
lections, with notes on their psalms and hymns. By Josiah 
Miller, M.A. London: 1869. 

Lyra Sacra Americana ; or, Gems from American 
Sacred Poetry. Selected and arranged, with notes and 
biographical sketches, by Charles Dexter Cleveland. Lon- 
don : 1868. 

Hymns Ancient and Modern. With annotations, 
originals, references, authors' and translatoi's' names, &c. 
Re-edited by Rev. Louis Coutier Biggs, M.A. London : 
1867. 

Annotations of the Hymnal. Consisting of notes, 
biographical sketches of authors, originals, and references. 
By Rev. Charles L. Hutchins, M.A. Hartford, Conn. : 
1872. 



BIBLIOGRAPHY. 35 I 

Hymns and Poems, Ouiginal and Translated. By 
Edward Caswall. Second edition. London : 1873. 

.Specimens of the Russian Poets, with introductory 
remarks. 2 vols. By John Bowring, F.R.S. London : 
1823. 

The Book of Praise. From the best English Hymn- 
Writers. Selected and arranged by Roundell Palmer. 
Cambridge : 1870. 

The Sunday Book of Poetry. Selected and arranged 
by C. F. Alexander. Cambridge : 1865. 

Lyra Mysi'ICA : Hymns and Verses on Sacred Subjects, 
Ancient and Modern. Edited by Rev. Orby Shipley. Lon- 
don : 1869. 

Hymns of the Eastern Church. Translated by Rev. 
J. M. Neale, D.D. London : 1862. 

Hymns and Poems for the Sick and Suffering. 
Edited by V. Fosbery. London: 1861. 

The Harp and the Cross. Compiled by Stephen G. 
Bulfinch. Boston: 1857. 

The Year of Praise. Edited by Henry Alford, D.D., 
Dean of Canterbury. London: 1867. 

Medi.'EVAL PIymns and Sequences. Translated by 
Rev. J. M. Neale, D.D. London : 1862. 

Latin Hymns, with English Notes. By F. A. March, 
LL.D. New York : 1874. 

Sacred Latin Poetry. Edited, with notes, by Richard 
Chenevix Trench, D.D. London: 1864. 

Lyra PjRITANNICA: A collection of British Hymns. 
Edited by C. Rogers. London : 1S68. 

Lyra Catholica. New York: 1851. 

Lyra Domestica. Translated from the Psaltery and 
Harp of C. J. P. Spitta, by Richard Massie. Boston: 1S61. 

Lyra Anglicana. Collected and arranged by Rev. 
Robert FL Baynes. Leipzig: 1S68. 

Hymns and Meditations. By A. L. W. London: 
1870. 



352 BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

Christ in Song : Hymns of Immanuel. Selected from 
all ages, with notes. By Philip Schaff, D.D. New York: 
1870. 

The Hymnal Noted. London. 

The People's Hymnal. London: 1877. 

Hymns from the German. Translated by Frances 
Elizabeth Cox. London : 1864. 

Songs of the Soul : Gathered out of Many Lands and 
Ages. By Samuel Irenseus Prime. New York: 1874. 

Easter Hymns. Compiled by J. E. C. Chapman. Bos- 
ton : 1876. 

Now is Christ Risen : Poems for Easter-Tide. Com- 
piled by S. L. N. Boston : 1S76. 

The Spirit of Praise. A Collection of Hymns Old 
and New. London. 

Lyra Anglicana. Edited by Rev. George T. Rider. 
New York : 1865. 

Lyra Americana. Edited by Rev. George T. Rider. 
New York : 1865. 

Poetical Works of Giles Fletcher, Edmund Spenser, 
Richard Crashaw, George Sandys, George Wither, John 
Beaumont, Henry Vaughn, George Herbert, Robert Her- 
rick, Christopher Harvey, William Lisle Bowles, James 
Montgomery, Henry Alford, Mrs. Hemans, William Cullen 
Bryant, Jean Ingelow, and Charles Kingsley ; together with 
various hymn-books, &c. 



